Behind Green Eyes
by NerdAngel
Summary: Sam's POV of his big brother throughout the years (spoiler alerts will be posted as needed for the chapters).
1. Ch1: Hi Sammy, I'm Your Big Brothe

**A/N: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

 **This is a short story that takes place throughout the season so I will be sure to inform if and what season there are spoilers for as chapters progress. For this one there really is no spoilers.**

 **Thank you so much to anyone who reads, follows, reviews, and/or favorites. Another special thank you to LilyBolt who's been a great support and amazing person.**

Chapter 1: Hi Sammy, I'm Your Big Brother

People see a lot of things in my brother. They see him as good, intimidating, brave, macho, hysterical, immature, impulsive, isolated, taboo, desirable, faulty, agonizing, protective, aggressive, efficient, rambunctious, loyal, dependable, predictable, upbeat, abrasive, inadequate, convenient, crazy, brash, lustful, impossible, unbelievable, broken, depressed, guilt ridden, heroic...I could go on. Everyone sees him in their own way and can see different things in him. I can see most of that too. But there was something more that I could see within my brother, something no one else could. A light. I don't know if it's because I've been with the guy 24/7 for almost my entire life, or if there's some other reason. All I know is that I have been aware of it and seen it since as long as I can remember. Actually, that's not entirely true. Since before I could remember.

I can't recall much of the day, but I remember the important parts. It had been my sixteenth Birthday. I can't remember what we did that day, but that night, that I remember clearly. Well...pretty much anyways. I had been sitting at the little wooden table in the dingy hotel room with a Del Sol just out of elbow reach. My dad never approved of me and underage drinking, even though Dean had started younger. It was because of my brother and his smooth talk that I was sitting with one to begin with.

"Come on Dad, it's the big one six. It's a milestone for crying out loud. You let me have one, remember? It's not like he's going out anywhere tonight."

"Dean, no."

"Aw come on, what's the point of being good if you can't be bad every now and again?" In the end, Dad was convinced. I could have ONE beer. The one that had been sitting at the table was number two. Also courtesy of Dean. He had slipped me another one while Dad had stepped out briefly to use the restroom.

My brother had been zonked out on the too small couch still completely in his day clothes and work boots, his legs outstretched, and his arm closest to the tv dipped in the bowl filled with Tortilla chips that he had been pigging out on. A thing of salsa sat on the cheap carpet next to that and next to that, my brother's...I believe third, El Sol. The hand that hadn't been in the chips rested on his chest, rising and falling with his chest. The small unmistakable sound of snoring could be heard. I had snickered at him and rolled my eyes. Dean liked to party, but no matter how hard he did, he always crashed hard.

"Sam," the sound of my name drew my attention. Directly across from me, Dad had been sitting with a bottle of whiskey and an empty shot glass. He had my full and undivided attention, and yet all he did was look at me while twirling the empty shot glass, if I didn't know my father I would say it was a nervous gesture. Then his gaze would move over to Dean.

"Yeah Dad?" I had said to try and coax a response from him. It felt odd to tell you the truth. Dad and I weren't usually on the best of terms with one another, especially during my teenage years. Dean may have been a handful with his love for booze, babes, brawls, and parties, but he had been the perfect son when it come to orders from Dad. I on the other hand never partied, never drank, never fought, never fooled around, always was reading or studying, but I would buttheads and get into yelling matches any time he was home. Dean had informed us before that we sounded like a couple of territorial male elephant seals. Of course, at that age, when I yelled I sounded like a girl trying to sound like a man. However, that didn't stop me from raising my voice at him anyways.

"Did I..." He paused slightly, as though what he was trying to say was something he would rather not talk about. "Did I ever tell you about the day your mother and I brought you home from the hospital?" My heart was pounding, my eyes grew wide, and I gulped.

"No sir," I had responded trying to keep out any and all signs of excitement in my voice so as not to spook him out of the story. Our dad never talked about the past, that is not unless it was a reminder of how the last time we were stupid things hadn't turned out so well. An example being when we were on a ghost hunt in Neveda one time he had said to me "don't turn your back on the monster son, I don't care if you were helping your brother up. Remember What happened last time you did that?" I always would respond with a "signature Sammy eye roll" as Dean would call it. It was like Dad had a personal motto: Never share the past, always keep it locked up. Even more so, he NEVER brought up Mom, EVER. If it hadn't been for pictures, I wouldn't have even known what she looked like. Let alone that I even had one.

"When we first got through the front door, neither of us knew what to expect. We had told Dean that he was going to be a big brother, and he seemed pretty happy about it. I had heard stories about older sibling's torturing and teasing the first newcomer to the family. I even heard of cases where the oldest actually tried to kill them. So you can imagine my fear when I heard the stomping of little feet and the call out to your mother and I as your brother ran down the stairs to greet us. A friend of ours had been watching him while we were gone. He got to the end of the staircase and rushed at me full speed. He was all smiles." Dad had smiled at the shot glass as though he was actually in the memory itself. "Let me tell you something Sam, your brother, was the happiest kid I had ever met. I had never seen anyone with a bigger smile than Dean when he was a boy. I picked him up, gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead and set him down. When he went to hug your mother, his eyes fell on you. I watched him cautiously as he observed. I saw something in Dean that day that I hadn't really seen before. His eyes seemed to shine brighter, which I had been certain was impossible. He had asked us if that was him, his little brother. I had been too petrified to say anything, but your mother knew exactly how to handle the situation. She always did. She told him you were and that your name was Sam. Dean begged your mother to let him hold you. Now, I was afraid he may be too rough or that he might drop you, but your mother told him he could and she placed you in Dean's little arms. Of course she made sure to position them just right and told him to be very careful. I wish I had taken a picture, although I doubt it would have captured the glow that shone on your brother's face as he peered down at you. He was holding you so tight I thought we were going to have to get a crowbar to pry you back." Dad stopped, poured himself a shot, threw it back and sat staring at the glass. I had been terrified he would stop there, that that was all he was incline to say. Already he had said more about the past then he had ever shared before. His eyes had moved from the shot glass up to me and I could see he was fighting back tears that were threatening to fall down his cheeks. "You know what his first words to you were Sam?" He asked me. Of course I didn't, no one had ever told me any of this before, not Dad, not Dean, not even Bobby. I shook my head blinking tears out of my own eyes. "He looked you straight in the eyes and said 'hi Sammy, I'm you're big brother Dean and I promise to look after you.' No four year old talks like that." His eyes moved from mine back to my brother. "But hot damn if that boy hasn't kept his promise." I had looked over at the snoring young man on the couch. A smile crept over my face as I did, the same smile our Dad wore, or so I was told.

"He really said that? At four? With no one telling him to?"

Dad nodded. "It was from that point on that I knew I wouldn't have to worry about you two. Sure you boys have had your disagreements and your differences, but you are brothers after all, teasing and fighting comes with the territory." It had felt like Dad had been possessed by some emotional ghost or something and I had been tempted to throw salt at him just to make sure he was really him.

"He wants to be just like you," I had said turning my gaze from Dean back to our dad. His face grew very stoic and he looked at me stern and...was it fear? Anger? Sadness? There was a hint of something, maybe all of the above.

"Don't let him," he replied.

"What?" It had caught me a little off guard to be honest. All this time, he had been raising us to be the perfect soldiers so that we could fight this battle with him, get our revenge and in the process, save some people. Dean already was on his way to becoming a carbon copy. Same dress code, same favorite music, same love or at least need for the job, even the same car interests. Of course, when it came to me, that's where they differed the most. Dad's mission in life was to find what killed Mom and get his revenge. Dean's mission was to keep me safe from everything in the world. My mission, I had been really starting to hate the hunting life more and more as I got older. I would have rather been sitting in the library studying up for my next test then on how to kill a werewolf. I had wanted to play soccer like all the other boys my age instead of sparring with my brother and learning how to use which weapon when killing what. I wanted to talk to friends and meet girls instead of talking to victim's loved ones and witnesses, or even victims themselves when they had managed to make it out alive. You know, a normal life. Already I had been thinking about what it might be like to go to college, get a real education, land myself a career, maybe settle down with a nice girl and have 2.5 kids. "The Apple pie life" as Dean called it.

"I don't want either of you to become me, you understand?"

I hadn't. "What do you mean Dad?" Unlike my brother, I didn't have trouble pushing questions on anyone.

"Keep that smile on his face," was all he said. With that he got up from the table and made his way to the bed closest to the front door. I had sat awhile longer soaking in everything I had heard that night. My eyes fell on Dean and I listened to his comforting somehow soothing sound sleep. Sleep had been hard for me, and any source of light or sound would wake my brother up if it was unexpected. I imagine it had to do with always being on alert. I blamed Dad for it. With Dean being so easy to startle awake most nights, I would just lay in my bed with no tv and no lights and just listen to Dean breath. It always lulled me into my own sleep. It made me feel safe, like I wasn't alone.

Dad had revealed that Dean had been the happiest kid he had ever met. It wasn't a mystery as to what had changed. How does a four year old go from playing with little plastic green army men and metal toy cars to learning how to aim and shoot a gun properly and drive a boat of car before he was even legally allowed to? Or know how and what was needed to sew up a wound? Maybe the biggest question of all, was how could a guy who had seen so much bad and so much death be so good and so full of life?


	2. Ch2: It's College, Not War

**A/n: Thank you to all of you who have are following this story as well as anyone else who reads, reviews, follows, and /or favorites it. A special thank you to LilyBolt for your uplifting review and constant support, you rock :-)**

Chapter 2: It's College, Not War

"When's Dad coming back?" I had turned my gaze from the passenger side window to my brother in the driver's seat. He hadn't looked at me, just huffed. His attention fully on the road ahead of us.

"I don't know, a week or two probably." That's all the time I had had, a week. The thought had been exhilarating and yet I couldn't help but feel...I don't know, guilty. "Why, you have something you want fight with him about again?" Dean had snapped. My lips had tightened, my nostrils had flared, and my shoulders had tensed. I had twisted my whole body so that I was facing my brother as much as the seat would allow me to.

"Let's get something straight, alright? He started it."

"Oh bullshit Sam!" Dean had shot me a quick glance. It was dark so I hadn't actually seen his face, but I hadn't needed to. I could imagine his green eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. His mouth had probably been slightly open, ready to sound it off again if need be.

"Oh really? You sure you even remember what he said to me Dean?!"

"Yes, I remember!"

"He said if I was going to leave, to not bother coming back!" I had recited.

"Yeah I know Sam!"

"All I said was that I wanted to attend college! Most parents would be ecstatic and proud. You would have thought I told him I was going to hop on a rocketship and fly off to another planet!"

"You really are a selfish son of a bitch, you know that?!"

"Why?! Because I want to live my own life?! Because I don't want to be a hunter like you and Dad?!"

"Because you would be walking out on your family!"He had shouted. Normally whenever things got heated while in the car, Dean would pull over. But in this case, he hadn't. I wasn't sure why. My first thought was that he had been afraid that if he did, I would climb out of the car and leave him right then and there.

"I wouldn't be that far, it's not like you couldn't reach me," I had said bringing down my voice and trying to calm my tone.

"The problem isn't reaching you, it's reaching you in time," Dean had responded.

"Reach me in time for what Dean?" I had scrunched up my face.

"I don't know Sam, I can't predict what might come after you." Realization had replaced confusion. Of course, how hadn't I guessed it before. I had scoffed and nodded my head.

"Ooooh, I get what this is."

"What what is?" Now it was Dean's turn to look puzzled. I don't know if it's a gift or a curse to be able to picture Dean's reaction in almost perfect dark, but I had it.

"This is a 'keep Sammy from danger' thing. Dean when are you and Dad going to accept that I'm eighteen now. You know what that means? It means I'm a legal adult, no longer a minor. I can take care of myself."

" I don't care if you're eighteen or ninety-eight, you're still my little brother. You're still my responsibility." I had rubbed my hand over my face and then ran it threw my hair trying to keep myself calm.

"What are you afraid of, Dean?" I had asked in voice barely above a whisper. Dean's eyes had returned to the road, and I could see he was willing to look anywhere but into my eyes. Clearly, I hadn't been the only one who had nailed their brother's facial expressions to a T. If I'm being honest, he had been smart not to look at me. Puppy dog eyes were kind of my weapon of choice and I had it down to a science. It worked like a charm on most people, and surprisingly enough, Dean was not immune either.

"You know what I'm afraid of," he had replied. His eyes had been as averted from me as humanly possible, this argument was coming to a close. Having read in between the lines, that's what his response had meant.

"I get why Dad doesn't want me to go, he's a control freak. Why don't you?" My eyes hadn't strayed from the dark figure behind the wheel. We had finally gotten out of the back roads and were back in public, which meant street lights. I had been able to make out my brother just barely as we passed by them. His jaw was clenched and his eyes fixed dead ahead once again. His grip on the steering wheel had been tighter than usual or necessary. I hadn't taken dead silence for an answer, not this time. "I mean, I would have thought you of all people would be happy for me."

"Of course I would be happy for you Sammy. I'm not trying to make your life miserable, and neither is Dad. We just worry about you. You, me, and Dad, we're all we've got. I just think it would be best if we all stuck together, you know?" He had stilled refused to even glance in my direction.

"I told you, I'll be fine. It's college, not war. Not everything that goes bump in the night is out to get me. And if I come across something, I can handle it." Silence and filled the car once again. I had kept an eye on Dean, hoping for some kind of reaction, but I hadn't seen one. "I need you to be on board with this Dean, please." It had been a plea, something I knew my brother had a hard time rejecting when it came to me.

"Sammy," he had said in a small voice "all I ask is that you think about this, I mean really think about this."

My heart had skipped a beat only slightly. I had swallowed and let out a breath I hadn't known I had been holding. It had worked, I was getting somewhere.

"I have, I have Dean. I've been thinking about this for years now."

"No Sammy, I mean put this under a microscope, dissect it. If you still want to go, then I'll help you out the best I can." I had done the impossible. At eighteen, I had convinced my brother, my protector, to let me go.

"Thank you Dean, it means a lot. Really. One more thing, you can't tell Dad ok? Promise me you won't tell him." I knew that that had been asking too much, as if having him let me go wasn't enough already.

"I figured you would say that." When he hadn't said anymore, I had taken it as he wouldn't say anything. A smile had crept across my face as I looked at my brother. His eyes had flicked over at me only briefly.

"Whatever. Bitch," he mumbled.

"Jerk," I countered.

We had arrived at the latest craphole motel Dad had dumped us in not long after our talk. The rest of the ride there had been silent. I knew Dean had been hoping beyond hope that I would see the bad in my plan and stay with him and Dad. But I had already made up my mind. In no less than a week, I was going to be college bound. Dean had let us both into the hotel room and once he was in with the door locked, bolted, the beat up green duffel bag full of weapons securely placed by his bed, the one closest to the door, he threw himself onto it with a sigh. I one the other hand, had seized the opportunity to hop into the shower. Dean usually got first dibs. He always claimed it's because I take up all the hot water. Sometimes he would let me go first, or we would rock, paper, scissors for it, but this time he hadn't even paid it any attention. I had been completely shocked. We had just had a tassel with a ghost out in the secluded country side of town. Both of us had been tossed to the dirt ground and we had had to rolled around to avoid the damn thing from digging his pickaxe into our skulls. Eventually Dean had managed to distract him while I had rushed back to his grave we had started to dig up earlier before he came and stopped us. I had picked up the shovel, cracked open the old wooden box he had called a coffin, doused his remains in kerosene and salt and lit it on fire.

Sure we had had dirtier jobs, but still, dirt was dirt and I hated going to bed smelling like sweat and earth. Despite what Dean called me at times, I wasn't actually a hippy.

It hadn't been a long shower, I had been too tired. After throwing on my light grey sweats and a black V-neck, I had crawled into bed. Once I had been all situated I turned off the light. The whole while I had tried to be as quiet as I could so I didn't wake Dean. As was often times the case, once I had gotten settled in, I couldn't sleep. I had just been laying there listening for the familiar sound of my brother passed out in the bed next to me, but I heard nothing. I had waited a bit longer, the only sound I could here were cars passing by the motel and the occasional bark of a dog somewhere In the distance.

"Dean?" I had whispered. Nothing. "Dean?" I had called out again but louder. There had been a muffled hmm in the bed parallel to mine.

"You alright?" It wasn't often that Dean wasn't passed out after a long day on a job. The pickaxe guy's gravesight had been a real Where's Waldo search and find, Dean should have been out cold.

"Fine. Go to sleep Sammy." I hadn't argued or questioned him, just rolled over onto my stomach, my face turned towards Dean's bed. It had been pitch black like it had been for the majority of the ride back, but I could feel my brother's watchful green eyes on me as he had been laying rolled over on his stomach as well. No doubt his forearm closest to me had been hanging off the bed slightly so that his hand was palm down. Ever since we started sleeping in separate beds, that was how he would fall sleep. Whether he was on his side, his back, or hist stomach, didn't matter. I had been eighteen and he had been twenty-two and yet he still slept with the arm closest to my bed outstretched towards me, just in case I had needed to reach out to him throughout the night for any reason.


	3. Ch3: I've Thought About It, I'll Be Fine

**A/n: Thank you so much everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review. Thank you to those who have favorited and/or are following the story. Also, I can't respond to your comments, but known that I am grateful for them Poguest and other guests. Thank you miXiz for your review and our talks, I have been enjoying them very much. Also, a special thank you again to LilyBolt for your fantastic reviews and amazing support, your as some!**

 **Side a/n: I am going back and giving the chapters titles in order for me to have an easier time not accidentally reposting a chapter.**

 **No spoilers in this one.**

Chapter 3: I've Thought About It, I'll Be Fine

"Sam, shotgun!" Dean had demanded as the ghost reappeared in front of him.

"I'm a little busy Dean!" I had called back as I had been slammed into by...I hadn't known if it had been Jesse or Tommy, but either way I had been knocked backwards on my ass with a thud. The shotgun had been knocked from my hands back when we had first entered the old abandoned house. These guys may have been dumb, but they had been fast too. The Dobbin twins, in life, had been loud, obnoxious, dumbasses who's favorite pass time had been hunting. Not like our hunting, but the kind that most people thought of when they heard the word. Pheasant, deer, bear, that kind. Well it was said that one night they had been drunk and decided it would be fun to have a duel. As you may have been able to guess, neither brother won, both brothers had lost. I would have thought that they would be more interested in going after each other on account they offed one another, but no. Instead they had decided to go after any dumbass that entered the house. What was it with teenagers? Why would it seem smart to go into an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere with no way of reaching anyone? Didn't they ever see horror movies?

Anyways, somehow Dad had stumbled onto the case and while he was tackling some big secret deal of his own, we had been left with dumb and dumber.

I had managed to scramble out of the way as the twin made a move to finish what he had started. My eyes had darted around the for the shotgun. It had been damn near pitch black inside that house, if Dean hadn't been clever and brought not only a flashlight, but a lantern he had acquired some time back, we may not have made it that far. It hadn't been much light, but it was enough that we hadn't been completely screwed. It had been mainly because of the surprise attack that we had found ourselves in the situation we had been in. Another near miss to my face from Jesse or Tommy. The only sign of Dean that I had been able to spot had been his work boots and jeans to his thighs and a ray of light coming from his flashlight. The lantern I had mentioned had been in Dean's tight grip still. I had heard a grunt and then the light, both from the flashlight and the lantern, were on the move. I had tried to follow it, but was stopped as a fist was plunged into the floorboards where I had been sitting. My heart had been pounding in my chest as I had tried desperately to search for the gun, while being chased by a ghost, and now my light source had vanished. At the same time I had lost the shotgun, my flashlight had been removed from my grip as well. I had been left in the dark.

All of the sudden there had been a scream followed by another one a bit further off and in the distance of the house, I had seen a small glow. I had waited, sitting with my hands behind me, my legs spread and bent at the knees and my breath had been coming in short heavy puffs.

"Sammy?!"

"Dean!" It hadn't taken my brother long to find me, both flashlight and lantern flooding my vision and blinding me. I had squinted and put a hand up to shield my eyes. I had been able to just make out brother's face in the low light. As usual after he had been the one to kill the creature, he had a "cat that ate the canary" grin plastered on his smug face.

"Smooth move butterfingers," he had teased me offering an outstretched hand in my direction. I had ignored it throwing him my infamous bitchface and getting to my feet.

"What happened?" I had asked him with a furrowed brow.

"Well, we knew they had been cremated, so that left us with an object that was tying them both here. So, I went with the prized elk head trophy in the next room. Crazy rednecks like them were bound to have one. I lit it up after the proper seasonings and boom, goodbye Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." Dean had been smart, and quick about it too. With both lights and no ghost twins after me, we had been able to locate the shotgun and my broken flashlight. "Ok so next time you take the light and I'll be in charge of the weapons," Dean had said as we exited the house. At first glance it had looked like your typical creepy house in the middle of nowhere, inside, it had been a a decaying Hell hole that smelt like mold, rot, and like it had been the wildlife's port-a-potty. The fresh air had felt good, and the road had been glittering from rain that had stopped falling just as we drove out there. The old swollen damp wooden stairs that led away from the house groaned as we marched down them back to the Imapla.

"Another bullshit case done," I had said bitterly.

"Sam," Dean had said throwing me his "don't even start" look.

"It's true Dean. I mean what was the point of this case? How many people are even coming out here all the way in bum-fuck-nowhere? I mean how did Dad even find this case anyways?"

"He's a freaking skilled badass, that's how." He had opened up the car trunk and tossed the gun, flashlight, and now turned off lantern in. I had rolled my eyes and scoffed.

"Right a badass. When he is going to stop sending us after bed stories and closet monsters?" Dean's eyes had grown stern, all humor drained.

"Whenever he feels like it," he had replied hitching a shoulder as he closed the trunk. He had said it so simply, as if there hadn't been and never would be another answer to my question. Fed up with Dean's loyal solider boy attitude, I had thrown my fist down hard on the hood of the Impala.

"When are you going to grow your own brain and think for yourself Dean? Why do you let Dad control you?" The action had caught my brother's attention more than my words had. His eyes had grown wide and dangerous as he rounded on me. At eighteen I was already taller than him. It had come as a shock the day that I had gone from about the middle of his torso to a few inches above his head. Since I was little he had called me names like "pipsqueak" and "munchkin." Then the day I was noticeably taller became "sasquatch" and "giant." Such an improvement.

"Hey! You can be pissed off at Dad all you want, but don't take it out on Baby!" He had stared into my eyes for a few seconds longer, making sure I had understood just what kind of trouble I would be in if I did it again, then turned on his heels and marched towards the driver's side of the car. I had huffed and done the same, crawling into the passenger side.

All week Dad had been leaving Dean messages about cases, stupid little who gives a shit cases. Of course Dean had said that a case is a case and if there was one, then there were people who need saving so it was worth going. I had been able to see it for what it really had been, busy work. While Dad was out chasing his tail, he was sending us on milk runs. It had been one after another after another until we had been brought here. The end of the week. All I had wanted was to spend one night, one night with just Dean. No werewolves, no witches, no ghosts, just me and my big brother doing something fun. One last time before I went. One last chance to hangout with my brother the way normal siblings did. A night out on the town or stargazing, Hell, I had even been open to a trip to the movies. But no, I had been whisked away on another hunt. Then there we were sitting in the Impala neither of us saying anything to the other. It hadn't been fair that Dad could snap his fingers and Dean would obey. It hadn't been fair that because I was the youngest, I had been dragged along kicking and screaming all over the damn country. It hadn't been fair that I had been forced into a life I had absolutely zero interest in because my Dad was obsessed on getting revenge. But all of that was about to change that night. Dean had told me to really think about it, and I had. My decision had been final, it had been locked in, unchangeable. I had hoped that at least on the way home, Dean would have been joking or singing obnoxiously off key to some mullet rock song while I sat shaking my head and rolling my eyes in the passenger seat. But that hadn't been what happened. My bad mood had affected my brother tremendously and he hadn't opened his mouth once while we had sat in the car. He hadn't even risked a glance at me while he had been driving back to the motel like he always did. I had taken a sneak peek of him however. It had almost been a deja vu moment from the night a week ago when I had brought up college. His green eyes had been focused on the road ahead of him, with both hands gripping the steering wheel. I had wanted to say something, anything to break this awkward silence, to make things better before I was gone. But I hadn't know what to say to him, so instead, we had sat in awkward silence. Of all the times to be lost for words, this had been the worse.

When we had reached the newest motel, Dean had let us in and marched off immediately to the restroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. I had signed and began to collect all my things. I hadn't had much, as hunters that were constantly on the go, we had to travel light and be able to pack up and bolt if the occasion called for it. Unlike Dean who liked to leave everything sprawled out all over the place, I had always kept my things either in my backpack or in a pile close to it. By the time Dean had reemerged from the bathroom, I had been packed and ready. Dean hadn't said two words to me the whole time he finished getting ready for bed. As he had climbed under the covers and reached for the light on the nightstand between our beds to turn it out for the night, I cleared my throat.

"Dean," his green eyes looked into mine and for the first time since I had made my decision, I had reconsidered. Dean was far from quiet, usually, but his eyes, those were even further from it. He didn't know, I don't think he does even now, but his eyes spoke louder than his words. As I had looked into them that night, I had wanted to convince him to come with me. Together we could live normal lives and get out from under Dad's thumb. But I had known that would never happen, because Dean didn't want it. He didn't care to have a normal life, he wanted Dad's. It had been in that moment that the first time in years I had remembered what Dad had said to me the night I had turned sixteen while my brother had been passed out on the couch.

"Don't let him. I don't want either of you to become me, you understand? Keep that smile on his face."

I had tried to keep Dean from falling into Dad's footsteps, tried to get him to stand up for himself and not let Dad be so damn controlling. It hadn't mattered, everything I said had either fallen on deaf ears or sent Dean into his defensive or clam mode. As for keeping the smile on his face, I hadn't been exactly certain what look he would be wearing when he found me gone, but I had been certain it was not a smile. The thought had gotten me lost in thought and doubt.

"What?" Dean had asked snapping me back to the present.

"I'm...I'm sorry about earlier. And I'm sorry about the Impala," I had said. There had been so much more I had wanted to say. Sorry, thank you, it's for the best, I have to do what's right for me, take care, I'll miss you, I'll be fine...so much more. But I hadn't. All I had said was sorry. I figured it had been better than leaving it the way it had been.

"Damn straight you're sorry," he had said. It hadn't come as a surprise that he would answer with something like that. Something that showed that he was angry but really was him accepting my apology. I wouldn't have expected anything more, especially not some gooey speech or sharing of feelings. But I had hoped maybe tonight would be different. That somehow Dean had known what tonight was. If he had, he hadn't said anything or shown that he knew. He had told me if I was sure he would be on board with it, but even though I hadn't changed my mind about school, I had about including Dean. I had originally thought I would come to Dean and tell him I had thought about it and it was going to happen with or without him, but that hadn't been right. I no longer had to deal with Dad and his stupid ways and his temper, but Dean did. Tomorrow was going to be hard enough for him, there had been no need to get him involved.

I had smiled at Dean, hoping I had finally mastered masking my true emotion with a different one. When he returned it, it hadn't been on his lips, but in his eyes. It was like he had been happy to have put the quarrel behind us. I was going to miss those eyes and of course the person behind them. Dean clicked off the light. I had heard him shuffling around in his covers trying to get comfy, then a few minutes later, I heard soft snores. At first I had treated that night like any other night. I had been laying on my back in the bed parallel to his, one hand beneath my head while the one rested on my stomach and my eyes staring up at the ceiling. I had listened to the sound of Dean sleeping, bringing me a tranquility that had been much needed after a night like that one. Before I had allowed myself to sink into my own sleep, I quietly slid off my bed, grabbed my backpack, and crept quietly over to the dresser where I had seen a pad of paper and a pen supplied by the motel. It had been hard since there hadn't really been a light, but I had scribbled on the first piece of paper on the pad in my messy scratchy handwriting "I've thought about it, I'll be fine." It hadn't been the best, but I had hoped it would be clear enough. Dean may think he's stupid but he isn't. I had seen it time an time again and what he had done that night, the fast thinking he did. He was going to be fine. I had tip-toed to the front door, quietly removed the chain and slowly turned the knob. My eyes had been fixed on it as if staring at it would make it a sure thing there would be no noise. Once it had been open enough to squeeze through, I gave the direction of my brother's bed one last glance, and disappeared.


	4. Ch4: Fairy Tales Aren't for Winchesters

**A/n: Alright, so this chapter is a spoiler for the pilot episode, should anyone not have seen it lol.**

 **I would like to take the time to thank those who have read, reviewed, followed, or favorited this story or any of my others.**

 **A special Thank you again and always to LilyBolt who has continued to be a big support and a great friend to chat with. Thank you miXiZ for all the nights and days you have kept me company via FB, it's a highlight to my day :)**

Ch 4: Fairy Tales Aren't for Winchesters

I wish I could say that after that night, I went on to graduate from college and then law school after that, landed a successful job, married the love of my life, bought a house with a white picket fence, had 2.5 kids, a dog, and lived happily ever after. However, if it's one thing I have learned throughout my life, it's that fate has a funny way of taking what you want and burning it to ashes right in front of your face. Especially if you're a Winchester. Instead of living the fairy tale life, my story became a cliché horror show wrapped in a nightmare. Seriously, I'm not kidding. If my life was ever a movie or a book (which I found out years later that there actually is a book series about us as well as a musical based loosely off of our lives), the sleeve or the back of the book may go something like this:

All his life Sam Winchester wanted to be normal, live a normal life, have a normal family, a normal job, etc. However, for the first eighteen years of his life, it had been anything but normal. Then something glorious happened, he became an adult. Unable to take it anymore, he took his life into his own hands and with much work, he began to make his dreams come true. For four years, Sam was finally normal. He had a full ride, was going to Stanford, had a beautiful girlfriend, a nice group of friends, an apartment, a nice part time job, and an interview that could seal the deal of a perfect apple pie life. Until on night, his past caught up with him, knocked him off his feet and pinned him to the ground with a shit eating grin on its face.

I know, how much more cliché can it get? Some people would read that and facepalm wondering how many times Hollywood or publishing companies are going to go with that storyline. Whereas a reader or viewer can simply change the channel or close the book and walk away, I had to live it.

"Woah, easy tiger." I hadn't expected to see his face that night, nor hear his voice. To say my heart had almost stopped completely, even after I had realized the man who broke into my house would cause me no harm, would be a lie. I hadn't heard from him in years, I think at least two. I had talked to him maybe two times after I left and they had both been times Dean had asked me to come back home.

And then there he had been, smiling down at me in my dinning room. His face had lit up like a Jack-o-lantern the moment his name left my lips. Like he had been worried I had somehow managed to forget it.

"You scared the crap out of me," I breathed.

"That's because you're out of practice," Dean had wasted no time in throwing a snarky remark that was aimed at my life choices back at me. All sense of playfulness he had displayed just seconds before. Just to spite him and prove him wrong, I had mustered up my strength, tossed him over wrapping my legs around him, and rolled him so that our positions had been switched and I had been the one looking down on him.

"Or not," he laughed "help me up." I had seen pride shine through his eyes at how I had handled the situation, then helped him to his feet.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" I had asked my voice going up a notch as though he were a buddy who had surprised me with a visit, or in this case my brother.

Of course he had tried to break the ice in the only way my brother could.

"Well I was looking for a beer." The first time I had asked him my emotions had gotten the best of me, as did the initial shock of seeing him.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" This time it had been more of a demand than an actual question.

"Ok, alright, we gotta talk."

"Uh the phone," I had replied in an "obvious" tone.

"If I'd called, would you have picked up?" My jaw had clenched. If he had thought he could break into MY house and start shit about the past, he was sorely mistaken. It was then that my two worlds had collided. Jess came in with a look of confusion, curiosity, and a hint of concern etched on her face. My eyes moved to my brother's as I watched his attention fall on her and his face light up. I had had no choice but to introduce the two of them now. He had instantly switched on his Tom cat charm and was already making awkward small talk about her sleep attire and how I was out of her league. I had been able to sense her discomfort at his words and had been momentarily grateful that he had dropped it where he had. Then he had turned everything back to me saying how we needed to have a private family talk. I had seen the look on Jess' face and immediately I stepped away from Dean to stand by Jess, putting my arm around her. Whatever he had to say, he could say it front of her. Jessica had become my family. He had shook his head but agreed.

"Dad hasn't been home in a couple of days."

I had kept an unamused half grin on my face, it had been the only way I had kept myself from saying anything too harsh like I tended to do.

"So he's working overtime on a Miller time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later," had been my response. The grin hadn't left my face. My brother had bowed and nodded his head, his lips pursed. Clearly he had known what I was saying, reading between the lines.

"Dad's on a hunting trip," he had tried again meeting my eyes "and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Finally the message he was trying to get through to me had clicked and my grin had faded. I had excused myself from Jess and followed my big brother out of the apartment. The whole time I had talked about how we had been raised and Dad's constant absences. Once outside, I allowed my eyes to scan the car that may as well been my home my younger years. I didn't have the same feelings for it as Dean did, so it hadn't been anything lingering. The conversation had managed to end up about me running away to college.

"So what are you going to do? Live some normal Apple pie life? Is that it?"

"No. Not normal," I had corrected him "safe." I had looked into Dean's eyes. Surely he could understand that. After all, hadn't that been the problem? Hadn't Dean not wanted me to go off because he feared for my safety? Dean huffed, shook his head, rolled his eyes, and turned his gaze away from me.

"And that's why you ran away?" The response had caught me off guard. I had looked at him with disbelief and hurt.

"I was just going to college," I had replied simply. He had raised his eyebrows and gave an incredulous huff. "It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing." My brother had gone on to tell me Dad was in some real trouble and that he couldn't do it alone. I had told him he could.

"Yeah well I don't want to." My brother didn't often beg or plead for anything, but with only the look in his eyes no words said, I had fallen pray to his need for help. The silent plea still is how Dean gets his way with me. It was like an animal who even though was willing and able to rip you to shreds, was really just desperate for help.

I had sighed in defeat, it gets me every time. One more job couldn't hurt.

"What was he hunting?"

Dean had gone on to explain the case to me and show me what he had already. It wasn't much, just newspapers about missing men and a recording he had taken from a call from Dad that when played correctly you could her an eerie woman's voice. I couldn't help but feel a little proud of my big brother. He had played off like not having me around would be so terrible and he would be so lost, but that had been far from the truth.

"You know in almost two years I haven't called you haven't asked you for a thing." He had looked at me again, those eyes. It was as though they were screaming, after all you have put us through, this is the least you could do. Guilt had won and I sighed deeply, agreeing to help Dean find Dad, as long as I was going to make it back in time for my interview Monday.

"Job interview? Skip it," he had said simply. Dean hadn't ever known the importance of a job other than hunting. He had no sense of how the real world worked, just the world our Dad had created for him.

I had tried to be patient with him, reminding myself how he hadn't understood how big this was to me. Upon hearing me talk about going to law school, my brother had raised an eyebrow. Bemusement flashed in his eyes only briefly.

Once he had agreed to get me back in time, I had gone back inside to pack up my things and say goodbye to Jessica. It had pained me to have to keep her in the dark the way I had, but it had been for her safety.

It had been funny to me to see how some things never change. Dean with the Impala, cassette tapes, and fake credit cards. He had even still found it amusing to call me "Sammy," which I hated. I had corrected him every time, but whether he did it to get a reaction out of me or merely because he was stubborn and stuck in his ways, he continued to call me by the damn name. We had gone through the case quickly as I had hoped we would, but not necessarily easily. We had been chased down by woman in white with the Impala and forced to jump over the bridge to avoid becoming roadkill. We had found Dad's last hotel room, which had been covered with newspaper clips, pictures, tacks, and string creating an information web that led us straight to Constance, the woman in white. Dean had been caught by the cops due to his credit card fraud and showing up with a fake federal marshal badge at a crime scene, I had been given a near heart attack from Constance, literally, and I had ran the car into the old house that she had lived in years ago with her husband and children of whom she had drown out of a moment of insanity after finding out her husband hand been unfaithful. We had both walked away with only a few scratches and bruises to show for it, including the Impala. Dean had been ready and eager to move on and find Dad. I had had to remind him I couldn't go. It had been fun to catch up with Dean, although I had wished it could have been more like normal brother get togethers. Maybe sit at a bar and shoot the shit or something. I should have known that wouldn't be the case, it would never be the case with us. However as much as I had enjoyed Dean's company, I also had missed Jess terribly, as well as worried about her.

As promised Dean got me back early in the morning for my interview. Everything had been as it should be. I had asked him to call me should he hear from Dad. He had said he would.

Not sure what else to say to him, I had turned and started towards my apartment.

Sam!" I had turned around to face Dean.

"You know we made a Hell of a team back there," he had smiled. Not sure what to say exactly I had muttered a "yeah" and nodded. With one last glance my brother had steered the Impala off down the street. I had sighed and looked after him with a look of longing. For the slightest second, I had wished I could be in the car with him. Riding shotgun and complaining about his music as a road map was laid out on my lap. I had missed him, not the job or the life, just him. The moment had passed and I headed off home to my Jess.

When I had entered I had found the place quiet and dark. A plate of cookies ha been placed on the table with a sign that read "miss you, love you," on it. I had smiled and helped myself to the chocolate chip cookies she had prepared for my arrival. Once I had reached our bedroom, I could see a light coming from the crack of our bathroom door and the sound of running water. I had sighed deeply, happy to be home safe and sound once again. I had placed my hands behind my back and threw myself down with my eyes closed. Listening to the shower I had almost been lulled sleep. Until it happened. I had felt a little drop of liquid hit my face. I had turned it away as if to avoid it, but another came. Slowly I opened my eyes and instantly I had wished I hadn't. Laying with her stomach sliced and dripping red was Jess. The look of pure shock and terror was plastered on her face. I had propped myself up on my elbows shouting helplessly. All of the sudden, the ceiling was on fire and engulfing my room as well as Jessica's corpse. I had been too stunned, too mortified to move, so I just stayed there screaming her name. Dean has always had a "spidy sense" when it came to me, I guess that hadn't changed either. The next thing I knew, he had busted through the door, grabbed me, and shoved me screaming and pushing to get back to Jess. Dean hadn't let up and he didn't until he had managed to get me out of the burning house and into the safety of the sidewalk. Another thing I have learned, there is no such thing as coincidences. My girlfriend had died the same way my mom had twenty two years ago on the same day. There had been no serendipity about it. With Jess gone, only one thing had been on my mind. Find the bastard who did this, and make him pay. Just like that, everything I had worked so hard for, everything I had created, earned, cherished, was gone. I had been stripped of all but my brother and the previous life I had tried so hard to get away from. My brother had greeted me silently as I loaded up some of the weapons in the trunk. He hadn't said anything, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching my reaction. My own eyes had been filled with tears and still more had been running down my cheeks. I had been practically able hear him question what I was doing holding a loaded weapon, and my response to his silent inquiry had been short and full of venom.

"We have work to do."

 **Note: I'm aware that this was mostly the Pilot, but I promise that won't be the case throughout the whole story, this episode was just really crucial to the rest of it.**


	5. Ch5: I Can't Listen, I Can't Watch

**A/n: Thank you to all those who read, review, follow, or favorite this story as well as any of my other ones.**

 **I would like to thank Guest and PoGuest for your constant review and interest in this story. A special thank you to LilyBolt for your constant support and friendship and a special thank you to miXiZ for keeping me company, all the advice, the talks, and the support you have given me. I promise I will have a that little side project sent to you this week. Be on the look out for it.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: season 1 "Pilot" and "Bloody Mary" (sort of)**

 **In this chapter I have a fun little Easter egg, a tiny twisted shout out of one of my favorite movies of all times (it isn't exact, but I twisted some fates to make it work for this). If anyone finds it, let me know ;)**

Ch 5: I Can't Listen, I Can't Watch

Weeks after Jess' death, I had had nightmares. They had always been about the same thing, that night on November 2nd. I would be laying on my bed back in Palo Alto with my hands behind my head and my eyes closed. Then, something would happen to cause me to open them. Normally it had been either the feeling of drops of blood hitting my face or I would hear her voice. Whatever happened, I would always open my eyes to see her pinned to the ceiling, fire everywhere, the look of terror and shock on her face and a large angry red slash across her midriff that stained her night gown. Then I would wake up and find myself panting, most times I had been drenched in sweat, and my eyes would snap open to look up at the ceiling. Most times I had frowned at it in disappointment, as the ceiling above had always been a location that had never been home and the eyes that watched me had never been blue. For weeks Dean had asked me what it was I had been dreaming about, to which my answer had normally been something like "lollipops and candy canes." He had understood what that meant, but it hadn't made him any less concerned or suspicious and it certainly hadn't prevented me from waking up with a pair of green eyes glued to me either. On our last case, an honest to God Bloody Mary sighting, he had guessed my nightmares. I hadn't been shocked. He had told me that it hadn't been my fault, That there was nothing I could have done. Little had he known that I had been having these nightmares even when Jess had been alive. I had just shrugged them off believing and telling myself had been just that, just nightmares. By the hundredth one and with Jessica having died just like I had dreamt she had, I hadn't been too sure that's all it had actually been.

I had woken up one morning after yet another nightmare, but something had been different. My eyes flew open and I had stared at the ceiling, as usual. I still hadn't gotten use to waking up in a different dingy motel room every so many days and every time my eyes had shot open, I had prayed I would be staring up at my own ceiling in California. That day, there had been something missing. I had turned my head to the left to look at Dean's bed parallel to mine. The sheets had been pulled back revealing it to be empty. I had propped my upper body up so that I had been able to read the alarm clock that sat on the nightstand between our beds. Green glowing numbers and tiny letters had read 6:24 am. I had turned my attention to scan around the room. No sign of him.

"Dean?" I had cocked my head slightly, listening for any indicators that he had been there. Silence had been my only response. I had thrown back my covers and marched over to the bathroom door and knocked. "Dean?!" I had placed my ear to the door, listening for running water or Dean singing, something. When there hadn't been a reply, I slowly cracked it open. Normally you would just leave it alone, but in our line of work, no response could mean danger. I had slowly turned the knob and cracked it open. Once it looked like I hadn't been intruding on anything personal, I had pushed it open all the way. The only sound had been the ever irritating drip of the leaky sink. I had spun around and made my way back to the nightstand. It had dawned in me then that my cell had been the only one on it. Dean's phone and car keys had been missing. I had grabbed my phone and scrolled through the names until I had come across his. Right as I had placed my finger on the call button, I had heard someone at the front door. Quickly I placed the phone back down and made my way over to see who it had been. When I opened it, I had seen Dean standing with our motel room key outstretched in his left hand, a drink holder sporting two large white paper cups with plastic lids in his right, and a white grease stained paper bag in his teeth. His eyes had flashed me a grateful smile and his lips had followed suit.

"'Anks Shammy," he had said with a mouth full of bag as he entered the room. I had closed the door behind him my brows knitted.

"It's Sam. Dean, what are you doing up so early? Where were you?"

He had pocketed the motel key and transferred the bag from his mouth to his free hand.

"Uh, getting breakfast," he had stated as if I had been slow. He had held out the bag in my direction. I had looked from it to him a look of disapproval had clearly been etched on my face. "Don't give me that dirty diaper look. I've been letting your whole "I'm not hungry" routine slide for awhile now when it comes to breakfast, times up." When I hadn't made a move to grab the bag he shook it at me. "Come on." It hadn't been a plea, it had been a demand. He hadn't given me an ultimatum in words, but if he had it would have been either you eat this or I will make you eat this. I had known just by the look had given me. His features had hardened and all signs of joking had been gone. His features only had softened when I had rolled my own eyes, huffed, and snatched up the bag from his hand. Immediately the playful gleam returned and a smirk appeared."Don't worry Sammy, it's a nice old fashion plain one, just like you." I had scoffed at his teasing and shook my head. It had started to become obvious to me that no matter how many times I corrected him, he still would call me by my dreaded kid name. Maybe because in his eyes, no matter how old, he would always see me as his kid brother. Great.

"So what's with the early morning breakfast run?" I had asked again, Dean had handed me one of the paper cups while he grabbed the other. He took a long sip and smacked his lips with satisfaction.

"Caught us a case," he had said ditching the holder in the garbage can next to his bed.

"Any news on Dad?" I had asked taking a sip of my own coffee trying to hide my eagerness. It hadn't worked.

"No Sam. If I had I would have said 'I caught a lead on Dad,' not a case." I had wanted to say something back, but instead I had choked back a comment and went with what he had wanted to talk about.

"So, what's the case?" His eyes flicked from me to the grease stained bag still rolled up in my hand.

"Eat your breakfast," he had said nodding at it "and I'll tell you." I had huffed. "You can huff and puff all you want Big Bad, this little piggy's house ain't coming down. Now eat your damn donut."

I may be pig headed, but so could Dean. In fact I'm still 90% sure that it's a Winchester trait. Possibly also a Campbell one. Either way, both of us are stubborn even now.

I had unrolled the bag a little harsher than had been necessary and crammed the donut in my mouth, taking in over half of it.

"Ere, ou appy?" I had asked with my mouth full of breakfast.

"A little town called Winter River. A family was found dead in their home, doors were locked, no signs of forced entry," Dean rattled off as if he had been reading a newspaper article.

"We thinking ghost?" I had asked.

"Yahtzee," he had clicked tongue and winked. "There had been a young couple who lived in that house prior. After a new family moved in, they had completely given the place a home makeover, then a few days later, bam, dead."

"Did they say how?"

"The father, a once big shot business man from the Big Apple, had made like humpty dumpty and had a great fall from the second story, cracking his head open. The wife had a strange mark around her neck, I'm guessing strangulation. The daughter...that one is a toss up between murder and suicide. They found her hanging in the attic." I had winced at the fate of the family.

"So vengeful spirits?"

"Sounds like. Alright, finish up your breakfast, shower, get dressed, and pack up. Casper and wife are a good nine hours plus away, I want to be on the road before we hit traffic. Let's go chop chop."

I had shoved the rest of the donut into my mouth and started to get going. Out of the corner of my eye had seen Dean flash a satisfied smirk my way.

About an hour later, we had been rolling down the highway in the Impala. The crisp October air had felt good with the Windows rolled down, and after about four hours of it, I had drifted off to sleep.

Relaxing on the bed, eyes open at the sound of my name, Jess on the ceiling, fire, me screaming.

My head collided with the window frame of the Impala and I had jerked awake.

"Dean what..?" He had pulled of the side of the road into the dirt shoulder turning off th ignition. I had sat up, wiping sweat I hadn't even been aware of when I had first woken up. I had looked over at Dean, who in return had been glaring at me. The puzzle pieces had clicked into place, he hadn't needed to say anything. So I had sat, giving Dean my best dazed and confused look.

"You didn't listen to a word I had said back in Toledo Ohio, did you?"

"Dean-"

"Not a damn word."

I focused my attention on the front window. Nothing I would say would be the right answer. That I had known. "Damn it Sam, how many times do I have to tell you, it wasn't YOUR fault. YOU didn't kill Jessica," he had raised his voice, really emphasising how much this wasn't on me. "She went out exactly the same way as Mom had, so unless you pulled a Dateline copy cat stunt, I know it was the same damn thing that killed her years ago. So stop blaming this on yourself." It was true, so blatantly obvious that Mom and Jessica's killer had to have been the same thing, but he still hadn't known about the "dreams" I had been having before he showed up.

"But Dean..." I had half hoped he would interrupt me again, but instead he had been sitting twisted around in the driver seat so that he had a clear view of me. His attention undivided. I hadn't been ready to share that information with him, he hadn't been ready to hear it. What would he have said? How would it have changed the way he looked at me? Would he still see me as "Sammy" his kid brother? Or as a freak he couldn't relate to? What if these dreams had been more and I had been a freak? I had pushed away all those thoughts and gave Dean my best dewy eyed look. "Of course I heard you and I know it's not my fault, but it still happened. I'm still going to have nightmares about it."

"I get that, but maybe the sooner you start believing you weren't responsible, the sooner they'll stop," he had offered with a shrug.

"Maybe." I had doubted it highly, but it seemed to put Dean at ease to hear me say it.

"I just...I can't listen to you calling out to her any more. I can't watch you drown in your own sweat and tears." It isn't often that Dean is open to sharing his feelings, so when he does, he means it. Yet another thing that hasn't changed in all his years. "I just need to know your ok. I need you to be ok Sammy." His eyes had remained serious, but I had noticed a hint of saddness behind them as well. I had smiled and nodded my head at him.

"Yeah Dean, I'll be alright," I had reassured him. I don't know how much he had believed me, but my guess had been I had done well enough. He gave me one last look and then turned around to face the front again. My brother switched on the car and Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock n' Roll" blasted through the stereo. Dean smiled, turned up the volume, and sang along as he bolted down the highway, clearly making up for lost time and to clear the air of any lingering "chick flick" feelings.


	6. Ch6: Broken Place, Broken Face

**A/n: Thank you so much to everyone who has been following, reviewing, reading, and or favoriting this story and any other of my work. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get another chapter out. I have chapter 7 already to go so it won't be as long, I promise.**

 **A special thank you to LilyBolt for your constant support, interest, reviews, and friendship. Thank you miXiZ for everything as well.**

Ch 6 Broken Place, Broken Face

Over the course of my life, and his, I've gotten the chance to see the many sides of Dean Winchester. I've seen it all from wide grins to the murderous glares, to the hurt animal eyes to the lock box that contained his feelings. I've seen him dance and heard him sing, or at least that's what he calls it. I've watched him cry, witnessed him fight back tears, cause tears, and laugh so hard that he cried. I've seen him concerned, normally it was only ever for me or Dad and I've seen him worried, again me or Dad. I've watched a mischievous grin claim his lips, a bright and proud one take hold of his eyes, and a lustful one dance across his face at the sight of a pretty girl and a guarantee that he was going to get laid. I've watched his cheeks turn red at the mention of his looks, I've seen his face turn blank and seen it shine bright enough to make the sun jealous. I've witnessed how he looks at the Impala with a sense of admiration, or "Baby" as he calls it, sorry, "her." And of course, I have had to choke down the look he always use to give Dad. His eyes were just screaming for him to praise him, to be proud, to look at Dean and say "that's my boy." I had thought that that was the worse look that the man of many faces would ever show me, but I had been wrong.

Immediately after we had pulled up to our old house in Lawrence Kansas, I had been able feel something shift in his demeanour. He had fought me on this case, saying how he didn't want to go back and that he had promised himself he wouldn't. I'm one hundred percent positive that my telling him about finding the case through a dream, hadn't made anything any better. I had explained to him it was important, that the new owners were in danger. Dean can be stubborn, as I said, but his heart usually gets in the way of that. Reluctantly he had agreed to go and I thought it was because he didn't want to go back to where our house and Mom burned down. I had had a feeling it was something more as I snuck a peek over at him. It had been hard not to stare, but I've learned that if you don't make yourself obvious, you get more "true" Dean. I don't even know if I can describe the look that my brother had been wearing, I had never seen anything like it. In all my 22 years of being alive, it had been uncomfortable to watch a familiar face with such an alien expression. I had seen him scared before, this wasn't it. I had even checked up on him, asked if he was going to be alright, his response hadn't made me feel confident.

We asked Jenny about the house and we were informed of flickering light scratches in the walls and her daughter was terrified of what she claims was something on fire that lived in her closet. When we left we tried to wrap our heads around what could be causing this family so much trouble. A ghost? A demon? THE demon? That's where my mind went, Dean tried to take a few steps back to look at the whole picture, treating this case like it was any other. Except we had a bit more of the background according to him, and it wasn't exactly "any other" case for us.

"How much do we actually know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?" I had asked leaning against the car while Dean filled her up at a gas station. His head snapped to look at me. A quick flash of fear appeared on his face but he quickly recovered and brought it back to quizzical.

"About that night, you mean?" He had asked.

"Yeah."

"Not much," he had said quickly. His eyes stared off straight ahead of him, the whole time I watched his face, studying it as I tend to do. "I remember the fire. The heat." He paused. His mouth had opened slightly and his expressions had almost softened. I knew there was something he was keeping from me, it was written all over the blank face he worked so hard on keeping. "Then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" How had I never been told this? How had I not heard all those times Dean would get angry with me on a hunt or as kids "do you know what I've done for you? I've carried your ass out of a burning house." Never not even once had Dean ever said anything about or used it against me. Things clicked into place like a puzzle in my mind. I had always known Dean took it upon himself to watch over me, and then I remembered what Dad had said Dean's first words had been to me. I guess I always figured Dad had been the one. But it had been Dean?

"Yeah. Why, you never knew that?" I guess he had just figured Dad told me or maybe he had thought that a six month old baby would remember something like that. I don't know. I stared at him, a new sense of understanding and appreciation for how truly amazing my big brother actually was hitting me hard in the gut.

"No," I had finally answered in a small voice. I thought Dean would have been done, but he went on. His gaze now down and focused on one spot.

"And, well you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was..." He had stopped again, moving his mouth inaudibly before actual words came out. I had watched my brother play out a mental rerun of that night in his mind. "Was on the ceiling. Whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her." The rest of his story had been rattled off as though it were a story he had told so many times before. I had asked if Dad had had any theories, Dean said if he did he kept them to himself, Lord knows we asked him enough. Dean excused himself and I had sat, thinking. That's when it had hit me, like truly honest to God if it had been a fist, I would have been out cold. Dean didn't just lose Mom or our house, he had lost everything. The demon had taken Dean's innocence, his childhood, his parents, his sense of familiarity and security. It had taken his life. Any life Dean would have had, was gone. Any possibilities of a normal "Apple pie" life, burned down to ashes that night. He became a man at four, a solider in a war that most adult men would piss themselves over if they had even known what was out there in the world. At nothing short of the age of a toddler, my brother had become a hero.

Then something else came back to my mind. Something that I still have moments where it comes to me at full blast.

"Keep that smile on his face." We had been there to save Jenny and her children. We were saving people, but at what cost? It had been clear that even though Dean hadn't mentioned this case to me at all when we weren't at the house, that it was eating him up. To be in the very place that had taken everything from him, was causing him some real damage.

After we had cleared the house of the spirits, or thought we had, I told Dean I had a bad feeling and we needed to stay and make sure. I had been right. We both had darted into the house Dean telling me to get the kids while he went for Jenny. I had gone after Richie the toddler first, then swiped up Sari in my free arm just in time to see a phantom on fire. I had started down the stairs but something stopped me and I had gently placed the girl down and then handed Sari her little brother. "Sari take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back." No soon had the words left my lips then I had been dragged away. It hadn't taken Dean long to break in and he found me pinned to the wall in the kitchen. That had definitely been fear in his eyes. My only guess is that he had thought about what would happen if he had lost another family member in that house. The phantom fire had come into our vision and Dean pointed the sawed off shotgun at it.

"No Don't! Don't!" I had shouted, my eyes looking passed the fire and seeing its true form.

"What? Why?"

"Because I know who it is, I can see her now." My eyes had never left the fire as I spoke. Suddenly the flames dispersed and a woman I only recognized from photos was standing where they had been.

"Mom?" Dean's voice had been small. She addressed him and then came over to me.

"Sam." Her voice had sounded like an angel, the best sound in my entire life. A voice that I had always longed to hear now that I had been old enough to remember it and who it belonged to. It was as beautiful and gentle as she had been standing there. I closed my eyes as if doing so had helped me to capture that moment, that face, that voice, forever. Hot tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I smiled at my name. When I had opened them again I had seen a pained look on Mom's face. A look that had reminded me of Dean. He really did look like her.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. My smile had faded and I furrowed my brow as more tears had formed.

"For what?" I had whispered. For dying? For leaving us and Dad? For leaving us WITH Dad? None of that could possibly have been her fault. It's not like she had planned for all this to have happened. She hadn't answered, just looked at me with sad apologetic knowing eyes. I wanted nothing more then to go to her. To wrap her in my arms and never let go. I didn't have to look over at Dean to know he had wanted to do the same thing. She turned from me and faced the evil that had had me pinned and then...It was over. They were gone. When I had looked over at Dean, the look he had had when we first arrived was back. I had seen him through various ages and stages of life, but I had never seen him look so...young. My big brother, in that minute, looked like a small lost boy. His lip was pouted ever so slightly, his face soft, and his eyes...I had never seen them look so youthful and full of longing. Like he just had wanted to be found and held close and sung to and told that it's all going to be alright. That he could finally lay his head on a strong comforting shoulder and have someone wrap their arms around him for once and he would be the one that was being watched over and protected. He no longer needed it to be the other way around. He could rest and be at ease. My brother had needed that, and to be completely honest, he still needs it. Dean's only one person...but he wasn't, he hadn't been since November 1983. He was many people, too many.

We didn't speak the entire ride back to the motel, but as soon as we were in the room and Dean and I were packing up our stuff to move on, I walked over to him. Without a warning or a word, I took hold of my big brother in my arms and pulled him to me. I think at first he had been in complete shock of the action. He hadn't excepted it. I didn't care though, I held tight until I felt his arms finally reciprocate my gesture. I had closed my eyes and gave a small grin at his notion. Dean and I don't say that we love each other, it's too chick flicky for him, but in that hug I had hoped to translate that, as well as that I was there for him. I would always be there for him. I appreciated everything. When we finally let go Dean looked at me briefly then flicked his eyes away.

"Pack up your crap and let's hit the road. No more girl moments out of you for forever, got it?" He had asked pointing at me. I had scoffed, rolled my eyes, and followed Dean out to the car. It may not have sounded like it, but that had been Dean's way of saying "thank you Sammy, I needed that."


	7. Ch7: Guilt Party of One, Faith Enough fo

**A/n: For those who don't know, I lost my work for all of my stories, however I was able to recover ch 7 of this story. I was going to wait to post it, but since my main source of writing is missing, I'm going to go ahead and post this. I'm going to try and figure out a way to get things out to you still, however it may take some time.**

 **I would like to thank LolyBolt again for everything as well as miXiZ who has once again saved me by having ch 7 basically saved. Thank Chuck for that miXiZ, you don't know how grateful I really am that I at least don't have to rewrite this chapter. Also thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, follows and/or favorites this story, any of my others, or me as a writer. Thank you all so much!**

 **SPOILER ALERT: contains a lot of season 1 "Faith."**

 **Also, language warning**

Ch7 Guilt Party of One, Faith Enough for Two

"Sam I swear to God, if you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm gonna bag your face for the rest of the ride."

I had been sitting shotgun, as usual, but after our last case, I couldn't bring myself to stop staring at my big brother. Dean had almost died. Twice! Within a couple days of each other!

It was the only thing I had been able to think about since we left. I had almost lost my brother, and it had only been a couple months after I had lost Jessica. Too close. It had been way too close a call. I can still remember my heart pounding when I had laid eyes on a slumped over Dean in a basement where we had been hunting a Rawhead. I had only left him alone long enough to pack up the kids we had found hiding away safely into the Imapla, then I had been back down for Dean. I hadn't expected to find him the way I had. Eyes closed, pulse intensely rapid. It hadn't taken me long to figure out what had happened. Dean had zapped the Rawhead, I had seen the body laying face down on the cold hard cement. He had shot off the tazer while standing in a puddle of nasty water. Electricity and water don't mix, for anyone who didn't pay attention in science class. In the process of taking out the Rawhead, he had nearly taken himself out as well. I had flung him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and hauled ass the best I could back to the car. I had tossed him in the passenger seat, buckled him up, climbed into the drivers seat and peeled off to the nearest hospital. The sound of two high pitch screams as I did so had startled me. Glancing in my rearview mirror, my eyes had spotted the source of the sound. Of course. I had forgotten all about the kids in the back.

"Buckle up ok?" I had called back making eye contact with both the little boy and the little girl. They had both given me terrified stares but they obeyed. The car ride to the hospital had seems like forever, and if you have ever tried to find a hospital without a map or any form of guidance, help, or knowing as to where one was plus a rapidly fading brother and two terrified doe eyed kids of whom you didn't know or know where they lived, you could understand my frustration.

Finally I came across what I had been looking for, whipped the Impala into the nearest parking spot, ran to the passenger side and collected Dean in another fireman's carry, and made it halfway to the entrance when I remembered the kids again. I already could practically feel the slowing heartbeat of my brother as I stood in the parking lot torn between dealing with the kids later, and retrieving them now. I had decided on the latter and rushed through the automatic doors like something out of a Lifetime drama movie.

"Help! I need help!" I shouted. Immediately a large fair skinned man and a darker skinned man came to my aid. Their eyes had fallen on Dean and the larger fair skinned guy helped transfer my brother's unconscious body from me to him. I had let him go reluctantly, eyes fixed on my now white as a sheet brother. His lips had started to turn blue and there had been large black bags under his eyes. He had looked like death warmed over. I moved to follow the man, but the darker skinned one wearing a white lab coat had put a hand out to stop me. His eyes had been strong and his demeanor had been annoyingly calm.

"I'm going to need to know a few things," he had said in a deep voice.

"Like what?"

"Like what happened for starters? What's his name? What's your relation? Is he allergic to any medications?"

"Dean's my brother. He's not allergic to any meds. He was eletrocuted. We were..." I had stopped short, causing the doctor to look at me like I had sprouted a second head. "Shit...there are two kids, a brother and sister. Dean and I found them."

"Found them?"

"Yes sir, in the basement of some run down house." He had quirked an eyebrow at me.

"And where are they now?" he had asked looking around me.

"In my car, I loaded them up and had planned on taking them to the nearest police station. But then Dean..." I had stopped, unable to repeat what had happened. I hadn't wanted to talk about it, I hadn't wanted to think about it.

The dark skinned man in the white coat had nodded. "I'll have someone call the cops. In the meantime, bring the kids in so we can have them looked at." I had dashed off back to retrieve them just to find both had been passed out slumped over so that the boys head rested on his sister's shoulder and her head had been leaning against his head. Panic took me as I had wondered and feared if something had happened that I hadn't been aware of. My worries had been laid to rest when I shook them and they roused.

"Come on come on, shh it's ok," I had coaxed as they began to whine and tremble. I had had to herd them like two lost cattle back to the hospital where two more employees swept them up and disappeared down the hall. "Where's my brother?" I had asked not bothering immediately after I had returned.

"He's being looked after," had been his response.

"I need to see him," I had moved again as if to make my way forward, but had been stopped. My attention had fallen on the man, a flicker of irritation in my eyes.

"It's crucial that no one other than a nurse or myself go in there right now. Your brother appears to be in critical condition and I can't have visitors in there at this time. Not until he's been stabilized and I have a better idea on his status. Go home, get some rest."

"I don't want to rest, I want to see my brother," I had said firmly.

"What's your name son?" He had asked. I choked back how irked I had been at how he had addressed me.

"Sam."

"Well Sam, you can see him tomorrow. For now I suggest you go get some rest and come back in the morning." The doctor hadn't waited for a response, he had simply turned on his heels and headed straight down the hall where my brother had been taken. It wouldn't do me any good to put up a fight, so I marched back to the car. I had already made up my mind I wasn't leaving the damn hospital, so I crawled into the back of the Impala and laid on my back with my feet on the seat and my legs bent at the knees. I hadn't been tired, but until I knew Dean's condition, there hadn't been much else I could do. So I had laid there staring up at the hood of the car trying to calm my mind enough to finally fall asleep. The sooner I would be able to do that, the sooner I could see Dean.

I hadn't remembered actually falling asleep, but somewhere along the lines, I must have. The second my eyes had opened, I was up and out of the car and back into the hospital. My legs had been stiff and yet felt like wet noodles at the same time as I willed them to work. That car was just not meant for someone my size to sleep in. I had burst through the doors and this time I had been greeted by a different set of guys. They had been standing only a few feet away from the front counter sporting dark blue jackets with the word POLICE threaded in white. One man had had short black hair and a badge on his police jacket while the other had been wearing a police hat. The one in the hat had been holding a pen and a pad of paper. Both pairs of eyes fell on me when I entered.

"Are you Sam?" The one without the hat had asked. I had gulped slightly but nodded. "Sam we understand that you and your brother found two kids?"

"Yes sir. Could you just excuse me for a sec?" I had asked but didn't care what the answer was one way or another. Dean had been more important. I had turned to the front desk where a young woman had been standing in hospital scrubs. "Hi I uh, I want to check up on my brother. His name's Dean, he was brought in from last night after being electrocuted." I hadn't even been sure she knew who I was talking about. She smiled kindly at me.

"Oh yes of course," her attention had turned to her computer for a second and her fingers had been tapping away at the keyboard. "Sir, I'm so sorry to ask. There doesn't seem to be any insurance on file." Of course there hadn't been, there never would be for us. The life of a hunter is a discreet one, no real names, no real cards, no real insurance.

"Right. Um...ok" I had fished around in my jacket pocket for my wallet and quickly handed her the first fraudulent insurance card I had seen and handed it to her. She had smiled at me.

"Ok, Mr.," her eyes had flashed down only long enough to read the name and then ha been back on me "Burkowitz." With that I had turned away from her and back to the policemen.

"Look we can finish this up later," the first cop had said.

"No, no, it's ok," I had said maybe a but too hastily. I had desperately wanted to go see Dean, but I also hadn't wanted the police to be floating around the hospital while my brother and I were there also. Especially if someone they found out that that insurance hadn't actually been ours and Dean and I were not in fact the Burkowitz brothers. I quickly explained that we had been taking a shortcut thorough the neighborhood with the Windows rolled down when we heard the kids scream and we stopped and investigated it.

"You found the kids in the basement?" The first cop had asked. The second one had been scribbling away, periodically looking up at me and then writing some more.

"Yeah," I had said simply. It really helps when the truth can come out now and then when talking to the law enforcement.

"Well thank God you did," he had said sincerely. My eyes caught on to the dark skinned doctor of whom I had talked to the night prior. I remembered feeling my heart leap into my throat as I excused myself and made a B line for the doctor.

"Hey, doc. Is he-?"

"Resting," he had interrupted my worried mind.

"And?" I had listened to the doctor's every word but one in particular had me nervous. "How damaged?" I had inquired as soon as he had said the words brother, heart, and damaged I felt sick.

"We've done all that we can. We can try to keep him comfortable at this point, but I give him a couple of weeks at most, maybe a month." I had shaken my head not willing to accept what the doctor had been tip-toeing around saying. Despite my effort of trying to keep water from lining my eyes, I had felt them start to shine with tears. "We can't work miracles." He had muttered some apology which I had ignored and made my way into Dean's room. Finally. He had been propped up in the hospital bed with multiple sites attached to varies parts of him. Machines had been busy at work, making noises from time to time save the one that notified us of his heart rate. He had been wearing a gentle green hospital gown with the generic hospital bed blankets pulled up to the mid of his abdomen. The tv remote had been firmly held in his left hand and a bored expression occupied his face. His eyes still looked ghostly with the dark circles I had seen last night now gone and puffy red now in its place. He had looked so...tired. I had seen Dean when his eyes were heavy with sleep and droopy, but nothing like this. Every ounce of his face looked haggard his skin was piqued. His exhausted eyes hadn't met mine when I entered, instead it had been his voice that greeted me first.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime tv? It's terrible," my brother's voice had been raspy. If he hadn't been in the condition he was in I would have strangled him. This was serious and he was joking about tv and the stupid the bear from the laundry detergent commercial. But I knew what that had been, that had been a way for Dean to make things feel less awkward for himself. Having me stand there and see him in the conduction he had been in, it was clear to me that he had been embarrassed. It probably didn't help that my eyes though not watering, had looked on at him with sympathy and fear. The two things Dean hated to see most when someone looked at him. It got worse as his confessions for how he felt about the stupid bear turned into him telling me to leave town without him and to take care of the car. I hadn't been able to believe the words coming out of his mouth. Leave him here? He couldn't be serious. Did he think I thought it would that easy? That I would just shrug and take my loss and ride away in the Impala while he died alone in the hospital? He continued by giving me the "shit happens" speech. Our jobs are dangerous and we throw our lives on the gambling table every time we take a case. I hadn't been too sure what had been more upsetting to me, the fact that my brother was dying or that my brother didn't seem to care that he was dying. I had noticed the way a small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, and it hurt. But he wasn't going to go, I wouldn't let him. Through all the pain he had to have felt at the time and even as he lay on his deathbed, no pun intended, I could still see that gleam in his eyes. That life. He had still been full of it, that had been evident in his trying to make his serious situation into some sitcom. If my brother had that much visible in him, he could be saved.

"I know it's not easy, but I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it."

"Watch me."

I had spent the next three days researching the internet for something, some way I could save my brother. When that hadn't done me any good, I turned to Dad's journal, maybe he had some contacts I could hit up. I had called Pastor Jim, Caleb, and countless other numbers I had found scribbled in my Dad's chicken scratch hand writing. Finally, after nothing but sympathetic regards, I had found something. It hadn't been a whole lot to go off of, but it had been enough for me. A hunter named Joshua claimed there was a faith healer who actually healed people from various deadly diseases, tumors, even cancer! Someone with that gift surely could fix my brother's heart condition. After that call, I had made another, one. I had been sitting on my bed in the motel room, laptop on and a plethora of books around me, hoping he would answer. I had been brought instantly to his voicemail. The hope I had been feeling deteriorated as I listened to his recording.

"Hey Dad It's Sam. Uh..." I remember my voice shaking as I talked at the machine, unable to fully cover the fear. "You probably won't even get this, but its Dean." I had paused taking a breath and trying to find what would have been the best way to describe Dean's state. "He's sick and the doctor said there's nothing they can do." My voice had faltered slightly as I repeated what the doctor had said about him, my chest had tightened. "Um...but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So don't worry, because I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him better." I had gained control over my voice once more, but I hadn't been able to hide the disappointment. It had almost been like in some way subconsciously I had been stalling in case he had managed to pick up his phone. Especially if it had to do with one of our well beings. "All right, just wanted you to know." I had ended the call and tossed my phone on to my bed. A knock interrupted my thoughts and I crept towards the door. When I opened it, I had been shocked to see Dean leaning against the hotel door frame, a weak smile on his still pale face. I quickly made a move to help him into the room which of course he grumbled about, but didn't object, which only proved to me that he hadn't been alright. In true Dean form, he cracked a joke about how he wasn't going to die in a place that didn't have hot nurses and then asked about me. He had been on the verge of death and he had asked me about my health. So what that I hadn't gotten much sleep over the last few days? Lack of sleep wasn't the same as a damaged heart and though I can't say it had surprised me, it did concern me a little. I had excitedly told him about what I had been doing and what I had learned, leaving out the bit about the call to Dad.

"You're not going to let me die in peace, are you?" He had asked.

"I'm not letting you die period," I had countered.

There was no way my brother who was dying had been cleared to leave the hospital, so I quickly packed him up in the car, and took off to Nebraska. I may not have objected to him sneaking out of the doctor's care, but my foot had been firmly planted at the idea of him driving. It simply wasn't going to happen. Luckily for me, just getting back to me and the motel had really taken a toll on his strength and energy and the argument hadn't been one that lasted long at all. He had given up relatively quickly, but he made sure I knew how much he disliked the decision I had made by continuing to complain a while longer and crossing his arms. I had noticed he still winced time to time, putting his hand to his heart. My foot had pressed harder on the gas pedal, time was of the essence and I hadn't been sure how much longer Dean had had. He's strong, my brother has been a fighter for as long as I can recall. But even I know that strong will can only get someone so far.

We had made ok time getting to the healer. Dean had become sour about it as well as my assistance. I hadn't fought him on his refusal for help getting around, I knew it embarrassed him to be seen by others having me try to cater and monitor him. Of course I also knew that if roles had been reversed, he would have practically carried me like a child everywhere. Funny how he wouldn't let me do the same. No, not funny. Frustrating.

Roy had indeed fixed Dean, but of course he hadn't been able to celebrate about it, because he's Dean. Something hadn't seemed right to him, a bad feeling nagged at him. We later found out that he had been right, the healer hadn't exactly been a healer. Instead his wife had been controlling reapers, having them trade a life for a person they saw, or, excuse me "the Lord" saw worthy and taking someone "less" worthy. Dean had been broken up by the information. Someone had died because of him is how he had seen it. Not that there had been some religious crazy woman who had made it happen, but that HE had somehow caused it to happen. Like his existence was the cause of the man's death and then again when we had taken care of the issue and a kind pretty girl by the name of Layla had been denied a cure for her serious brain tumor. Funny how things Dean had no control over ate him from the inside out. No, not funny. Nothing about that situation had been funny. Not my brother's state of health, not his physical appearance, and certainly not his state of mind. I had become aware of my brother's twisted outlook on himself. I still am ten years later. What I didn't know though and still don't, is why? Why does my brother continue to think so low of himself? Why did he let guilt consume him completely over everyone's death? Why did he think he had to be the world's hero? Was it because of Dad? Or maybe something happened that Dean never shared with me? I don't know the in depth psychological answer, but I had made my own. It wasn't big or even a really good one, but it worked for me. It's because my big brother is a good man. He's never not been good. I mean sure he puts on a bad boy "I don't give a fuck" attitude, but I know the truth. I see pass the mask and the character my brother created for the world to view.

So I had been sitting staring at him, no doubt my "dewy" eyes had been at play which had only made him even more uncomfortable. Dean could get as mad at me as he had wanted to for staring, it hadn't stopped me. It was like I had been child again. I had always viewed my brother as he had always seen Dad, indestructible. Sure he took some God awful hits, bruises, scratches, cuts, broken bones, but he always bounced back. So when I had been only moments away of losing him, reality reared its ugly head. I couldn't lose Dean, I just couldn't. And for the time being, I had dodged that near hit.

By the time we got to the next motel for the night, Dean had still not been 100% himself. Despite his attempts to convince me otherwise. When we got into the room, Dean had taken up residence in the bed closest to the door, as he always does, and got to work channel surfing. I had decided that instead of looking up our next case that night, I would just hunker down on the other bed and watch crap cable with him. After a few go rounds of the couple channels, the tv had stopped on a car show where some guy would flip old cars and sell them. Shortly after I had heard to unmistakeable sound of my brother passed out. I had simply slid the remote from his loose grip, turned off the tv, turned off the light, and just laid there in the dark listening to my favorite sound to hear at night. As I have said, Dean's breathing helps to calm me, but it wasn't until that sound had almost been taken from me; that I truly appreciated it.


	8. Ch8: The Hope For the Better, the Turn F

**A/n: Thank you to LilyBolt and miXiZ for your constant support and ever-growing friendship as well as to anyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites "Behind Green Eyes," any of my other stories, and/or me as a writer.**

 **SPOILER ALERT for season 1 "Something Wicked," "Shadows," and "Devil's Trap." As well season 2 "As I Lay Dying."**

ch 8 The Hope For the Better, the Turn For the Worse

"Something's wrong with him Bobby?"

The man who had been like a father to us , looked over at me as though he couldn't believe what I had just said.

"You just lost yer daddy," he said as if this had been news to me "of course he ain't alright. Neither are you." I had felt my eyes start to shine and I quickly redirected my attention out the window at my brother. Dean and I had called Bobby from the hospital shortly after Dad's passing and he had insisted on coming to get us. Once Dad was released, thanks again to Bobby, we all piled into his car and he took us to South Dakota to stay with him. Dean had immediately climbed into the back seat with Dad. I hadn't said anything to him about it, in fact, I hadn't said anything really at all. My eyes had been puffy and red from crying and by the time he had arrived, I had been drained.

The moment we got to Bobby's Salvage, which was basically the closest thing to a home we had ever had,we laid Dad out in the old tool shed, and then we were ushered into the house.

As we were making our way in, Dean stopped suddenly. His gaze falling on something that caused his vacant eyes, to momentarily betray him with a second of grief. I hadn't needed to follow his gaze with my own, I knew what it was he had seen. I had seen it too.

The Impala, to me, is a car. It's meaning is for us to get from point A to point B, whether that was a hunt, a motel, Bobby's, a victim's house, or a hospital. For Dean, the Impala means almost if not just as much as family. I hadn't been able to understand it, but I did and still do understand that it means something to him. He had finally managed to tear his eyes from the now destroyed vehicle and mosy on into the house. Since the moment they had called Dad's death, Dean hadn't spoken. He hadn't shown any emotion, not pain, not fear, not shock, not loathing, not sadness, not even relief when Bobby had arrive. Nothing. His face had been as blank as an untouched piece of paper. Worse still had been his eyes. They stared ahead of him, dark and empty. Dean was never unreadable, not to me. I could read my brother better than anyone ever could, I knew him better than anyone ever could or would. His eyes didn't have to be an open book though, even through the blank stare, I had known something wasn't right. It wasn't just Dad, though that was clearly a large part of the problem. I'm no idiot, I knew what Dad had meant to Dean. I remember the look on his face when we finally met up with him again. For Dean it had been a couple of months, for me, it had been years. I hadn't know what to do, what to say. I hadn't known if he was still angry at me, or if he hated me. I had stood there as he and Dean hugged, a smile on his face and a glistening in his eyes that my brother hadn't seen. Then, it had been my turn. We had stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. We spoke a bit, as if testing the waters on both sides. Finally, he moved towards me and pulled me into a hug too. I had felt right then and there, that I was once again accepted as a Winchester. It was as though nothing bad had ever happened between us. I was home, even as I stood in some run down motel room in Chicago. Then, just like that, he was gone again. Like he had been so often when I had been living with my family. Just like that, things were back to how they were before.

Dean had mentioned earlier that day that he had wanted the family to be together again. The truth had come out that since the day he had gone to get me at Stanford, his plan had been to have me back. I was instantly reminded of that night I had decided to sneak out to college. The day I had received my acceptance letter, the only thing I could think about was finally getting out of this horror story I called a life. Dean and his feelings, had been an afterthought. I had figured it may sting a bit, but he would be ok, he would get over it. The moment he revealed to me his true intentions, I knew I had been wrong. Dean wasn't ok, he hadn't been ok. All he had been thinking about the whole time I had been gone, was how he could get me back. It hadn't just been words and it hadn't just come from the heart. I had seen that flicker of hope dance in his eyes at the thought that he could have everyone back again. That he wouldn't be left to take on the weight of the world alone. That this time, he wouldn't be abandoned by the two people whom he loved and held above all else, including himself. No it hadn't been just his heart that yearned for this to happen, but his soul. I hadn't wanted to crush Dean or that hope I saw lighting up his face, but I always knew and had known since the day I left Stanford, that this was NOT going to be my life. I hadn't wanted it to be. This time when I went back to school, things would be different, we would be a family. I would visit Dean, and if Dad was around I would see him too. When I could, I would call and talk about whatever it is they wanted to talk about, even if it had been about some random hot girl Dean had banged after chatting her up at a bar. Hell, I would even take a drunk dial. But that hope had been snuffed out for me just as Dean's had for everyone to be together again.

"I'm sorry," I had said in hoarse whisper, already I could feel my vision start to blur as I refused to turn my attention from Dean.

"Fer what?"

"Everything." I sniffed and shifted my feet, trying to fight back another emotional breakdown. I still had to get through Dad's funeral. I could feel Bobby's eyes on me, waiting for me to elaborate on what was meant by "everything." I had watched Dean dig through the beat up bag of tools resting on the work bench. His eyes examining one, then searching for another. "I didn't-I never-" I had tossed my head up and my gaze rested on the ceiling above me, words failing to assist without wavering. "I loved Dad, Bobby," I had sniffed. "I did."

"I know ya did Sam. You and your dad, ya just were too alike. But just cause ya got into fights and went off to school, that don't mean ya hated him." His voice was calm and I knew that that had been him being honest and also sympathetic. Bobby hadn't really talked about his dad, but I had known by the little bit he had said, that it hadn't been a good relationship. "Yer dad knew that too Sam, even if he never said it." There had been no stopping it. Liquid dripped from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I had quickly turned to look out the window again at my brother. I wish I had had the opportunity to tell Dad that I loved him, that even though I disagreed with a lot of things, including the hold he had had on Dean and the hold he tried to have on me, I could never hate him. I knew he was just trying to do the right thing, even if it hadn't actually been the right thing. "Listen, I already have a few things of wood outside, I'll help you and Dean with the pyre." I collected myself and cleared my throat.

"Thanks Bobby. For everything," I gave him an appreciative smile.

"Of course Sam, you and Dean can stay as long as ya need. You know that."

Before I could respond, the front door opened and Dean walked in. His hands and grey t shirt had been covered in grease, and a few black smudges decorated his face. He wandered into the kitchen where Bobby and I were, his gaze not meeting either of ours. He walked over to the fridge, pulled out a beer, removed the lid, tossed it back, and was off again. I had looked at Bobby concerned, he responded with a look of his own. Removing myself from the window I turned and made my way out and around the back. Dean had already been back to work under the car. An old radio was blasting a staticy Lynard Skynard song and his beer sat on the work bench, already half way empty.

"Hey Dean," I greeted as I approached him. He hadn't made any signs that he had heard me, but I knew that that didn't mean he hadn't. "Working on the Impala?" Still nothing. He had popped up from under the car and grabbed his beer taking another swig. I watched him, waiting for him to at least tell me to go away or something, but he didn't. Instead he just kept going about his business as if I hadn't even been there. "Dean," I had called out again "please." Nothing. "Bobby um..." I hadn't wanted to be the one to say anything to him, but ultimately, it had to be me. "Bobby said that he uh-he'll help us with you know-with-with the pyre." Dean froze with his back to me. Finally, my words had made an effect on him. I had stood watching his shoulders which I noticed were not the usual care free they normally were. Unless of course dad was around, then he was standing as straight as a board with his shoulders back and up nice and proper. They had been tense. Like every muscle in his back was straining. He stood a while longer like that, my eyes had been hopeful that he would at last actually say something. He resumed once more as though I hadn't been there. "I just thought you would want to know." Still nothing. He wouldn't even meet my eyes like he does so often when he wants me to know that he was being heard but he wasn't in the mood to talk. This had been a whole new side of Dean for me. My brother may not be the sharing and caring type, but he never really flat out ignored my existence before. When it had come to Dad, Dean had opened up to me throughout the years.

The most recent being a case where we had hunted a shtriga, which had brought out a story I had never heard. I apparently, had almost been soul food for the monster way back in the day. Dad had burst in and saved me, but at the cost of the shtriga getting away. Dean, of course, had blamed himself for the escape and my almost death as well as the death and illnesses of the victims less fortunate. More than that, he had told me that Dad had looked at him differently after that day. I can only imagine that what he had meant was he felt Dad had been disappointed in him. Something that my brother doesn't handle well, especially form his idol.

Bobby had come out a few minutes after, wood in his arms, and serious look on his face. "Grab some wood boys, let's get this done."

Several minutes later, we had created Dad's pyre. Bobby had helped Dean lift the covered form up from the shed and onto the pieces of wood we had laid out for his body to rest on, while I finished setting up. Night time had already fallen and Bobby had taken his leave, informing us that there would be food inside when we were good and ready. We stood staring at the clothed corpse formerly known as our dad. Neither of us had talked. Dean took the zippo from his pocket and lit the pyre. I had doused it pretty good, so it only took seconds for the flames to consume everything. As we stood in the silence, both of us staring into the flames that licked the wood pieces and body, I had felt tears roll down my cheeks once again.

"Before he-before-did he say anything to you? About anything?" My vision had blurred as I turned to face my brother. I couldn't make him out well, just slight glimpses. Most of his face was in shadow.

"No," first words he had spoken to me since Dad's pronouncement. "Nothing." I had tried to strike up some more conversation with him, but those two words had been all I got. He refused to speak. I returned my gaze to stare at the bright light. Memories came back like a title-wave. The smile on his face when he saw Dean and I for the first time in a long time. The fear that had took hold of him at the thought of anything happening to my brother or to me. The anger in his gruff voice the night I had first brought up the idea of me leaving the family business. The disappointment and betrayal that must have clamped onto his heart when he found out I had left. The sadness that haunted his eyes at the constant reminder that his wife was lost to him forever. I could go one forever and in depth with my memories of Dad, but I won't. Through all those recollections, it had been the words he had uttered to me the night of my sixteenth birthday that came back and hit me like a ton of bricks.

 _"Keep that smile on his face."_

Dean had always wished I had just kept my mouth shut and obeyed Dad, like he had. My brother had wanted more than anything to have everything be at peace at home, we had to deal with enough fighting with the job. What made Dad happy was to save people's lives from the unknown. Dean was happy when Dad was happy. It was like a math equation when you think about it. One of those obnoxious word problems like "If Sally has five apples and Barry eats two and Linda brings in seven more and Kim takes five to make an apple pie, how many apples were left?" It was the same basic idea. Dad wanted Dean to be happy. Dean was happy if Dad was happy. Dad was happy when he knew that we were making a difference for the better in the world and people were alive because of us. Therefore, the way to make Dean happy was to save lives and hunt things because it was what Dad wanted. See? Math. But it wasn't mindless like Sally and her apples. Who gave a shit about her apples? What good were they to me? But Dean's happiness, well that mattered. It does matter. It will always matter. It was up to me to make it happen. If it's the last thing I do, come hell or high water, I'm going to make damn sure. Those words, that whole conversation rather, had been between Dad and I. That's how it was going to stay. Between John and Sam Winchester, forever.

Dean had refused to eat, which hadn't come as a shock to Bobby or I, but was definitely a concern. Especially when we both knew that he could put away food like the rations were running low in the world. Instead he and I had waited until the flames died down, then we turned in for the night. I had eaten a small portion of the hot dogs and pork n' beans Bobby had made for us, if for no other reason than to be polite. I hadn't choked down much before I felt my stomach turn. A day of crying would do that to you. I had thanked Bobby, excused myself from the table and joined Dean in the spare bedroom.

"Dean?" I called out into the dark room. I hadn't wanted to blind him. "I'm gonna turn on the light, ok?" I had waited, but got no response. Maybe he had been sleeping. Light illuminated the small spare room. There had been two twin sized beds, a dresser, a mirror, and that was about it. Save the floor lamp that stood between the two beds. Bobby hadn't had guests other than Dean and I that often. My eyes snapped to look at my brother who had been laying with his hands behind his head, his green eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling. He hadn't even flinched when I turned on the light and for a second I wasn't even sure that he was breathing. The slightest movement of his little finger cleared my mind of anything bad and I went to sit on my bed.

I had nearly lost my brother AGAIN! Don't get me wrong, I had been a mess with Dad's death, but I don't think I could have handled it if it had been Dean. Not after everything that we've been through together. Although it would have been nice to see my brother passed out, I wasn't sure how I would feel about seeing him laying in bed with his eyes closed. That would haunt me for a while, seeing your brother with tubes down his throat, and nasty wounds on his face, eyes clamped shut, and the doctor telling you that there was a good chance he wasn't going to make it, can mess a guy up. Worse still, he had almost died at the hands of Dad possessed by the same demon who killed both our mom and Jess. I wouldn't let him take my brother from me too, and apparently, neither would Dad. My brother had been able look into his eyes and somehow had known that the man standing before us hadn't been Dad, well, not all Dad anyways.

Dean wasn't alright, not in the least bit. I had spent the next month after our Dad's funeral watching him like a hawk, looking for any tells of anything. All I got were short replies and shifty vacant eyes, if I was lucky. Dean still wouldn't look at me for long, it had been s as though he saw something in me that only he could see. Something only he knew and that he didn't want to share, and whatever it was, I reminded him of it. Maybe it would come out one day. Maybe we would be driving alone and he would pull the Impala over and share what it was that was eating him. However, since I hadn't been sure if that was a pipe dream or a possibility, all I could do was seek out jobs so that I could keep Dean busy and both him and our dad happy.


	9. Ch9: The First Glimpse Of Grey, A Crack

**A/n: Alright, this chapter takes place in season 2 episode 3 "Bloodlust." So SPOILER ALERT if you haven't seen it.**

 **Thank you LilyBolt and miXiZ for all your support, reviews and friendship. Th k you to all my followers and reviewers as well as to anyone else who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites.**

 **Please feel free to leave a comment/review**

Ch 9: The First Glimpse Of Grey, A Crack In the Mould

Dean and I, we see things differently. We always kind of have. You would think that being raised by the same man and then also being raised by a boy who wanted to be a carbon copy of that man, I would have come out another replica. Like anyone who met one of us, met all of us. But that is far from the case. Dean was a skilled fighter, dedicated hunter, food lover, snark disher, smooth talker, fast walker, joke maker, guilt taker, self hater, and over protective stubborn older brother. The almost, literal, superhero type. It has always been good vs. evil, black or white. No grey, no in between. You either were one or the other, never both never neither. I can't blame him for it, I don't. How could I when it was his idol who drilled this into his brain. I often worried for Dean once I was old enough to understand. The two things that my brother ever knew for certain were what he was taught was the way the world worked, and that his job was to watch out for me. It was almost like a machine being programmed to do his bidding. It sickened me. It worried me. It pissed me off. Maybe that's why it never made it through my own brain when he tried to do the same to me. Good vs evil, black or white. Or maybe it was because I would later learn, I was far more different from them then even I had thought. That I was actually the very thing that broke that rule. I myself am a mix of black and white, the grey that they had dismissed to exist. And yet they had had no idea, well, not for years anyways. I hadn't either, for that matter. I just have always had that sense that I was...unclean. Different. Not normal. Maybe that's why I have always wanted to be normal. Maybe I had thought that if I could just live a normal life like everyone else, That sense of different and unclean would be cleansed from me. I don't know.

With Dad gone, I questioned how my brother would act. I worried. Would he be able to cope? Would he finally break the mould and become his own person? Or would he really be doomed to go through life that perfect solider Dad had created before he died?

It had been weeks after his passing and although Dean was finally eating (though still not exactly what I called "Dean" portions) and talking, he still wasn't his full self. No matter how big a smile he would put on his face or how excited his tone of voice, something still hadn't been right. I had expected that. He never would be right, not until he was able to let go and stop letting whatever it was that was eating him, eat him. He needed to talk, to vent, to let it out. And he did let it out, in the only way my brother knows how to, violence. He had been itching to hunt all of the sudden and he had been a one man cleaning crew. I stood by and watched as my brother beat the shit out of a vampire only before slicing its head off with an electric saw. I know decapitation is the only way to kill a vamp, but his eyes. That light that had only slightly returned was like a blaze of fire. I have never in all my life found Dean to be scary, aside from some practically traumatizing pranks and choices when we were kids. But as he pulled that saw down to the vampire's neck, blood squirting onto his stone face, I admit it brought on the feeling. I can't say still that I was afraid of him, more that I was terrified FOR him. He had been getting more and more out of control when we went on hunts. I had wanted to say something to Bobby about it, but I hadn't been sure if that was a good idea. No sense in worrying him too. I just wished Dean would let me help him, but he refused. If I mentioned Dad, he would clam up or glare at me. I probably would have had more luck breaking into the highest guarded building in the world then I would breaking through to Dean. His mask he wore for me though fractured, never left his face when I was around. Nothing I had said or done could breech him. But he had been hurting, I knew that and if going on a hunt got his mind off of Dad or whatever it was that was bothering him, it worked for me. Trying to keep Dean happy hadn't exactly been working. He had called me out on it, asking why I was suddenly so interested in hunting and what Dad wanted. I couldn't tell him what Dad had said to me, it would only have destroyed him further or pissed him off, so I didn't. But it hurt that he felt it strange that I would care. Yes ok, Dad and I fought easily 95% of the time when he was around, but it hadn't meant that I hated him. I wasn't sure Dean got that, and there was no sense in me trying to make him. Dad may have entrusted my life to Dean, but he had done the same with me and Dean's happiness. I wanted to keep that fulfilled, hell, I still do and not just because of Dad, but because he's my brother. I knew Dean felt the same way about me, there was no question about that.

The vampire case had started out a happy one for him. The Impala was back in mint condition, a perfect example of how much my brother can accomplish when he's driven, it's actually truly amazing what that the man can do when he had his heart set on it. It started out simple. Vampires in town, weed them out, make some heads roll, and boom, case close and beers and burgers for everyone. However, the hunt had turned muddy when we met another hunter. Dean and I mostly work alone, with the exception of Bobby. We had only just met a friend of Dad's, another hunter and her daughter, Ellen and Jo. They had seemed trustworthy to me, though Dean was always a cautious one around others. He has never been the kind to welcome outsiders with open arms until they had proven themselves trustworthy. But Gordon Walker he had taken to unusually fast, while I myself hadn't exactly had a good vibe about the guy. A phone call to Ellen had only confirmed my suspicions. He had been a skilled hunter, but he was trouble from what I could understand. I had left Dean and Gordon to celebrate the kill at a bar, I hadn't been able to share their glee. Gordon didn't know my brother, he didn't know that he was spiraling out of control. But I had, and I had refused to sit there and drink with them in celebration of yet another peg my brother was dropping from the good mental health chart. In retro spec, I should have stayed, just to keep an eye on him. But then things probably would have turned out differently. I may not have been taken by the vampire nest and met with one of the only monsters that turned out to not be evil. The talk had left me baffled and having been returned without a scratch back to the motel had been even more mind boggling. I hadn't exactly looked forward to sharing this with Dean, he would never believe me. Blood lust had consumed my brother and I knew the news of me having been taken would only fuel the fire that was already burning within him. But I had tried. As I had figured, he hadn't taken my information well, or me calling Ellen for that matter. However, more than the phone call and the refusal to help him take out these creatures who were not actually evil, it was my comment about him trying to find comfort and Dad in someone else that sent him off the edge. That had earned me a punch to the face and probably the angriest most hateful look I had ever received from him. The blow to the face had taken me more by surprise then it actually hurt, but that look in his eyes. I was losing him. I had stood my ground, reminding him that hitting me wouldn't change anything. I had thought maybe he would throw another fist, but instead he turned and had marched into the motel room just to find Gordon and the Impala keys missing. Dean had been forced to hotwire the car, which I was sure Gordon would hear about later, and I sent us in the direction of the nest.

When we had arrived, Lenore, the vampire I had spoken with earlier, was sitting bloody in a chair with the rogue hunter running a blade down her chest. He had thought we were there to help, which I had known where I stood, but could only continue to trust I had made some kind impression on Dean from our conversation about my capture earlier. Shockingly, Dean talked to Gordon as though he were trying to talk him off a ledge. At least he had been until I was grabbed, my arm sliced, and the knife was held to my neck. Immediately my brother's cool collect tone had grown deep and demanding as he aimed his gun and ordered the psychotic hunter to let me go. He had replied calmly that he was just proving a point and that I would have been dead already if he had wanted to kill me. He really hadn't known my brother. Or at least if I had been killed, Gordon wouldn't be far behind. He squeezed my arm as he held it above Lenore's head. Blood fell hitting her face, once, twice, and her fight against the fangs coming out had been lost. I had been shocked that Dean still hadn't shot someone yet, but he was still at the ready. Then something happened that I will never forget as long as live, or am brought back to life, the vampire contained herself and repressed her urges. The look on my brother's face, that is what I will never forget. It had been as though a veil had been lifted, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Another difference, I was way more open to things than either my brother or Dad. I had been released and allowed to pick up Lenore and take her away to safety. There hadn't been time for me to react to Dean's actions at the time, I obeyed my brother, placing her in the truck and driving off to get her and her nest out safely.

It took me the rest of the night and into the morning, but I had done it. The whole while I had been working through what I had witnessed in my brother. A crack in the mould. Dean had fought through all the years of black and white, and saw his first glimpse of grey. Unfortunately for Gordon, his anger hadn't subsided and I'm pretty sure him having put me in harm's way was a motive for Dean to kick his ass even more. By the time I had gotten back to them, Gordon was tied to a chair, looking like he had gone a few rounds with a block of cement, as did Dean, which had only confirmed my suspicions. My brother gave the Hunter one last punch which I hadn't exactly welcomed but at the same couldn't exactly be bothered by due to the stunt that dick had pulled.

This hunt had confused Dean, upset him even.

"Think about every hunt we went on Sammy, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? The way dad raised," he had paused, and I hadn't wanted to lose him. This revelation was a huge improvement for Dean.

"Dean after what happened to mom, dad did the best he could," I had responded gently. Mom had always been a sensitive subject, and now I could add Dad to that list.

"Yeah I know he did, but he wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us to hate those things...and I hate them, I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, hell I enjoyed it." I remember wishing I had had a recorder. No one would have believed the words coming out of his mouth and I couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if Dad were still here.

" You didn't kill Lenore," I had reminded him.

"Every instinct told me too. I wanted to kill them, I wanted to kill them all." I had known he did, yet he hadn't.

"Yeah Dean but you didn't, and that's what matters."

"Yeah, because you're a monster pain in my ass," he replied. I smirked at him.

"Guess I'm going to have stick around and be a pain in your ass then."

"Thanks," he had replied quietly.

"Don't mention it." I had ducked down into the Impala shortly followed by Dean.

Dean and I learned a lot from Dad, and I learned a lot from Dean, but I had never thought Dean would learn something from me. I had been looking up to him all my life, even though we were different. To have him stop and look at something through my eyes or at the very least listen, it was monumental for me and for him. I had been swelling with pride. Dean may have wished we had never taken the job, that it had jacked everything up, but I couldn't have wished for a better one. Despite it having made him uncomfortable with the idea that not all monsters were bad, which went completely against EVERYTHING he had been raised to believe, it had made him question his shoot first and ask questions later attitude and that was a start. As we drove off down the dirt road, I had stared out the passenger side window, a small smile touching my lips. A new found hope had begun to rise within me. Maybe my brother wasn't doomed to be a replica of Dad after all, maybe there was hope I could save him still.


	10. CH10: Invasion of a Demonic Son of a B

**A/n: I'm so sorry it's been so long guys. I've been dealing with a death of a friend, a really intense cold, and a big change coming my way. For all of those who are still reading this, thank you so much for your patience. I hope this is at an alright chapter.**

 **This chapter takes place in season 2 "Born Under a Bad sign." Also WARNING SPOILER ALERT for "Croatian," "Hunted," and generally the main storyline for season 2.**

CH 10: Invasion of a Demonic Son of a Bitch, A Vow From My Brother the Protector

Since the day I turned six months old, my brother has been doing everything in his power to make sure I'm safe. From fires to bullies to monsters, Dean always saw himself as my protector. But with the whole "watch out for Sammy" bit, came secrets. I know he had them because he thought he was keeping me safe, and honestly, I know I should just accept that that is how it will always be as long as we both are alive, but there are just some things that I can't just shrug off. Such as the big secret that Dad left Dean with when he died. I knew something more had to have been wrong with my brother. I mean yes ok, he idolized the man, but he had been so snappy towards me and so stand off-ish and evasive. Like his lack of being able to actually look me straight in the eye afterwards. I thought maybe he blamed me or something. Come to find out, Dad told Dean in his final minutes the he needed to save me and if he couldn't, he would have to kill me.

As you can imagine, it started a bit of a disagreement between us and I had taken it upon myself to go in search of more "children" like me and some answers as to what it all means for me. In the process, Dean had come after me, not surprising, and had been taken hostage by none other than Gordon Walker. That dick got what he deserved in the end and Dean and I had made amends.

But of all the times my brother has saved me, there's one time in particular that I still to this day couldn't believe. A time where my brother proved to me just how serious he took keeping me safe. It was a time I found myself on a mission to kill other hunters.

Everyone's had those days where they don't quite feel like themselves, but you don't know how that really feels, until you are locked away in your own body and committing crimes that you yourself can't stop from happening. You don't know the feeling until you are forced to watch the light go out in another man's eyes and you're covered with their blood.

I don't actually remember how it happened. I mean I know how it happens, I wasn't protected at the time. I was really stressed out about the whole possibility of me going evil thing, which is basically like rolling out the welcome mat for the fowl monsters. Anyways, I may not remember how it happened, but I remember the fight I tried to put up to regain control of my body. It was an exhausting struggle mentally to do so, but for all my effort, I was overpowered and forced to sit shotgun and watch the demon take the reins over my actions and my words. I remember praying that Dean would find me before I could do anything too bad to an innocent person. Then I remember the pure horror I felt when what I dreaded would happen, happened and a fellow hunter fell prey to the monster that was now me. I was a puppet in a murder and I had no way to cut the strings and free myself.

I had been missing from Dean for quite some time, and it was no surprise to me when the demon called him, how fast he answered. He sounded so worried, which wasn't a shock, but while my cry for help drew my brother in like a moth to a flame, I wanted to beg him not to come. I couldn't stand the thought of the demon hurting my brother, or worse. Within minutes of the call, there had been a knock on my door and Dean appeared. I tried everything to get him to realize that the man he was worrying over, was not actually his brother. But the demon was stronger than me, and I had to sit idly by while it convinced him that I didn't remember what happened. My body led us like some rat through a maze, stopping now and then as though I had just "remembered" something. It took him to a car it had stolen where a bloody knife had been laying in the back on the floor along with blood on the steering wheel, and a gas receipt. We followed that until we stopped inside to see if the clerk recognized me. Unfortunately, he did, threatening to call the cops the moment I stepped inside. Dean got it sorted out and we took off in the direction the man had said I had gone earlier. I remember watching as the demon continued to play "bad feeling vibe" with my brother, until we reached the house of the dead hunter. It had hurt to see Dean's eyes stare at the video of "me" killing the guy in disbelief that his little brother had been capable of such a heinous act. The whole time the demon led him around, my brother had fought to find a reason why I would be acting so strange. He came up with multiple reasons as to what could have happened. Anything but me actually being evil.

Back at the motel, after Dean had destroyed all the evidence and we had wiped down our prints, the demon decided to push my brother further. Somehow it had known about Dad's words to him too and was using that as a means to my end. I don't know what upset me more, the fact that the demon was trying to get my brother to off me and was using my mouth to say those words, or the look in his eyes. It was like he had been hoping it wasn't real. That his little brother hadn't really murdered a man for no apparent reason other than just because he could. I wanted it to stop. I wanted Dean to know that it wasn't me he was talking to and that I was trying so hard to get back to him. But instead all I could do was listen to myself egg him on.

"Dean you promised him. You promised me." Something in my brother changed in that moment. He had been looking at me as though I were a bomb that needed to be diffused since he had first come to me after the phone call at the motel, but suddenly, I had seen hope shine in his green eyes. What he said, he genuinely believed and he wanted me to believe it too.

"We're gonna figure this out, okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?"

He had been looking for my confirmation, my support that whatever was happening with me, it was fixable and it wasn't me having crossed over to the dark side. I wanted to agree with him and tell him everything was going to be ok, but the demon had had other plans.

"Yeah, there is." It had handed my brother his gun. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you." Well I'll give the demon one thing, it certainly knew me well enough to put on a show. It used my eyes to draw in sentiment and choked up my voice when I spoke. And it fooled Dean too. I had seen him still fighting to keep things positive.

"You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it," he had encouraged me. The demon shook my head and laughed sadly.

"No. I can't. Not forever. Here, you gotta do it." My hand practically crammed the gun at my brother. He looked from me, to the firearm in his hand.

"You know, I've tried so hard to keep you safe."

"I know." If I had been in control of my heart, it would have been pounding. For the slightest of seconds, I had thought the demon had won. That my brother was actually going to listen to it. But that was short lived as I saw his eyes grow remorseful.

"I can't. I would rather die." I knew he meant it too. It always seemed obvious that if it ever came down to it, Dean would just as soon take a bullet for me as he would a knife, a fall, or any other way of death. I suppose it should make me feel good to know that, but it doesn't. Little does Dean know, still to this day, how hard it is to be ok with it. I'm not ok with I'll never be ok with it, and I've voiced that to my brother a few times now.

I wanted to cry tears of gratitude, admiration, appreciation, but the demon had other ideas. It took the gun from my brother and smacked him in the face with the butt of it.

The demon hadn't gotten what it had wanted, so it carried me out of the motel room and continued on with its murder-spree. To my horror, it had chosen none other than Jo Harvelle, a fellow hunter and friend. Luckily for her and unlike the first hunter, the demon used her as bait. Once again it tried to provoke Dean into shooting me, and once again my brother refused, no matter what I said. But then he had done something else neither the demon nor myself saw coming. He spun around and threw holy water at me. Of course it hadn't hurt me, but the demon inside flared up and I lost consciousness. The last thing I remember, was feeling so grateful that my big brother was no idiot and that somewhere from the time he was knocked out in the motel room, and at the bar Jo was working at, he had figured out that I was possessed.

When I woke up again, my arm was burning like I had had a run in with a hot stove, I had been sitting on the floor of what was clearly Bobby's house, and my big brother was sitting on the floor next to me looking like he was seconds away from passing out. His nose had been a bloody mess and he had been cradling his arm holding himself at his shoulder. Bobby had been standing looking down at us.

"Did I miss something?" I had asked. I had been answered by Dean's fist to the side of my face. I looked at him and then Bobby with a look that was both pain and confusion.

Once we had been cleaned up and iced, Bobby came to us with news that a hunter by the name of Steve Wandell was found dead and that his friends were looking for a little payback. I had immediately tensed, knowing it had been my fault. Dean put on his best poker face and told Bobby we hadn't heard of him. I knew that he was just as informed as I was that Bobby wasn't stupid and that he had already put the pieces together. If he had, who knew who else could do the same. We thanked Bobby and made our way out, but before we left, he supplied us with some charms and told us it should prevent another invasion of the body snatchers.

Back in the car, I had confessed to my brother about having been awake through some of my time trapped in my body and what I had seen and done. But more than that, I had questioned, in a way, why no matter what I did, he didn't shoot.

"It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you," had been his response. It hadn't been what I was looking for.

"Yeah, this time. What about next time?" I countered. I hated saying this, but maybe the demon, Meg it turned out to be, had had a point while she had been running around wearing me. What if I did end up killing someone because the Yellow Eyed Demon made me? Dean flashed me an angry panicked look.

"Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you...that was only if I couldn't save you. Now if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you." I was met with those same hopeful eyes that I had seen back when I had been possessed at the motel room right before I knocked him out. He kept my gaze a few seconds more, something he tends to do when he wants me to understand how sincere and serious he was with what he said. It didn't matter what I thought or that I knew he was just as scared about the whole thing as I was, what mattered was that I knew and believed that what my brother had said, was the truth. And I did. It was then that I knew, Dean would never follow through with Dad's final order. I could be the biggest criminal on the face of the earth, kill however many people, but no matter how bad it got, Dean would always choose to protect me. Even if it was from myself.

 **A/n Special note for LilyBolt: SUPRISE! I wanted to make sure I posted something today and I figure what better than a chapter of the story you say is you're favorite of mine? This day last year, I posted my first review ever on your story Remeberance which was my first story I had read of yours. It was a fantastic story, a mediocre review, and the beginning of a phenomenal friendship. It feels like I've known you so much longer than only one year, but it turns out, today marks it. HAPPY FIRST FULL YEAR OF FRIENDSHIP! It's a bad title, but it's what it is. Thank you for an amazing year and here's to more to come.**


	11. Ch11: The Unbreakable Vow

**A/n: SPOILER ALERT for season 2 finale parts 1 &2\. **

**Thank you everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, and/or follows this story, any other of my stories, and/or me as a writer. Special thank you to LilyBolt, jojospn, and Guest for your recent reviews for this.**

CH11: The Unbreakable Vow of a Four Year Old Guardian

I feel pretty comfortable saying that 90% of the world, and honestly I'm low balling, have made a promise they couldn't keep. Notice how I said "couldn't" not didn't. No judging here. Sometimes life comes along and mucks it all up for you, believe me I know. But then you have the other 10%, that do. Come Hell or high water, they will hold themselves to that promise. They meant what they said and they said what they meant...You get the idea.

My brother made a promise back when he was four, and even now at the age of thirty seven, hot damn if he hasn't kept it. Maybe not in his eyes, in fact I'm certain not in his eyes, but in mine. I know no one's asking me, and I know I'm biased here, but I dare anyone to look me straight in the face and tell me that it's not impressive that a thirty three year old promise made by a four year old, is still going strong. Especially when it's as big as promising to take another person's life into their own hands for as long as both members shall live. In a way, it's like Dean made a vow to me when I was born, and no, I don't mean that in ANY way romantic. We're brothers. Bound by blood and connected by a bond that I doubt most siblings can say they have with one another. To have a brother isn't anything uncommon or unique, but to have someone that would give their life away in exchange for his pain in the ass little brother's in a heartbeat, that's special.

I know, this is all really sappy, but collapsing in the rain after a knife is plunged into your back and the very man who swore to always protect you is running at you full speed with a look of pure terror on his face will do that to you. The minute I died, he could have turned away. Buried me, salt and burned me and finally laid to rest his lifelong burden he decided at the age that most boys simply promise to be good, that he'd always keep safe. But Dean is the definition of the 10% I mentioned. He meant what he said and said what he meant, my big brother's loyalty, 110%. And I remember, so clearly, as if it had only been yesterday, the last thing I thought about that day I died. "Dean's here, I knew he'd find me. He'll always find me. I'm safe, nothing can harm me now." I suppose if you want to be literal, I was harmed, severely. But how I see it, the harm that befell me, was learning what had happened. Dean had tried so hard to cover his tracks and make sure I believed some bullshit story.

Unfortunately for him, I'm not a blind moron. It doesn't take much to piece together that I had indeed bit the bullet and the only reason I was sucking air, was because my brother will never let go. Seriously, telling Dean to stop worrying about me is the equivalent to telling a bird not to fly or a fish not to swim. It simply won't happen. I suppose as frustrating as that is, and no matter how many times I tell him that I'm adult and I don't always need him watching over me like some toddler, I get it. But what he doesn't seem to be able to get with that bull head of his, is his self worth. To Dean, he's garbage. He's no better than a chewed up and spat out piece of gum on the bottom of a shoe. In his mind, the only reason he's alive, is to make sure that nothing bad ever happens to me and when that's compromised, the self loathing is unbearable. And it's hard. It's hard to watch someone who means the world to you, tear themselves apart over something that wasn't there fault. I hadn't died because Dean wasn't there for me, I died because I was too big of a softy to off the bastard Jake, who in turn had no trouble stabbing me in the back. I had died, because I wasn't paying attention. None of it was Dean's fault. Of course, he doesn't see it that way. I known this is going to sound...I don't know, morbid? But I'm actually really glad I didn't have an out of body experience like Dean had had. I don't think I could have handled having to stand there and watch my brother beat himself up over my death or see how broken he must have been. I wouldn't have wanted to see the hopelessness that leaked from his eyes or the moment when he decided to make a deal for me.

And though there aren't words for how much what he did means to me, there are words for how I felt knowing that my time with my big brother was limited. I knew that once again, the world revolved around Sammy and left Dean to be tossed carelessly in the trash. Knowing that there were no words that I could say to make him understand or agree that his life meant just as much as mine, I made my own vow. It was about time that I returned a favor.

"You're My big brother. There's nothing, I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm going to get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a change."


	12. CH12:My Dreams Aren't As Empty

**A/n: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post. As some of you may know, I'm also working on an AU which has been a bit of a challenge but is coming along. That being said, I haven't forgotten about this story, I promise. My goal is to try and post for it at least once a month if I can. I also have big life changes coming my way that also need my attention so I'll try and be fair with posting this. Unless I say otherwise, I will still be posting for this story.**

 **Thank you really to anyone who's been following and has been patient with the wait. As well as still has an interest. I know it's been awhile. Thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/of favorites. Special thanks to LilyBolt, miXiZ, jojospn, and Guest for your reviews from last chapter.**

 **Spoiler alert for season 3premiere and season 2 in General.**

My Dreams Aren't As Empty, As His Conscience Seems To Be

For someone so selfless Dean could be selfish. I know that may sound harsh, but hey, the truth isn't always a big fluffy pile of clouds and rainbows. In fact it rarely ever is.

I had kept well to my promise to do everything in my power to get Dean out of that demon deal he had made in exchange for me; books, internet, Bobby, whatever reliable source I could get my hands on. Meanwhile, while I had been frantically searching for something; anything to save his ass, he was off drinking, eating, and fucking, his way through his remaining days. Literally. It was like he had been completely ignoring the ticking clock that was his lifespan. Had I done anything to stop it? Ok so not exactly. I had sat with him will he got more and more carefree with every glass of whiskey, I made the food runs when he had been starving, whatever the hour, and I sat with books on my lap and flashlight in hand in the parking lot of motels or parked on the street in front of houses while Dean was polling the electorate, as I had put it. He deserved to have fun, even as I sat and worried. But it hadn't been just the fact that his life was on the line that worried me, it was that he hadn't shown any signs of caring that he would be gone in now less than a year. Little had I known at the time that the deal made, was a bit more complicated than I had originally thought.

"We trap a Crossroads demon. Trick it, try to welsh our way out of the deal in any way, you die. Okay? You die. Those are the terms. There's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me God, I'm gonna stop you." So there it was. The truth as to why he hadn't been trying to fix this poor decision he had made. He had caught himself in a steel trap, getting out would be the death of me; and more than likely his as well.

"How could you make that deal, Dean?" I had asked with a sigh. His answer, to him, was plain and simple.

"Because I couldn't live with you dead. Couldn't do it." At those words, rage built up inside of me. Not just at him, but for him.

"So, what now? I live and you die?" I had asked bitterly. Dean shrugged like it wasn't his life we were talking about.

"That's the general idea, yeah."

As he had moved to continue towards the car, I moved to block him. He wasn't getting out of this that easy, not this time. If I didn't get this off my chest now, the chances of me getting to him again would be near impossible. He had engaged himself in...I wouldn't say heart to heart, but he was talking, and it wasn't about some hunt or something random; it was about him. A rarity even now seven years later. I wasn't about to let my brother off easy, so I had brought out the big guns, reminding him how he had felt when it was his life that had been spared in exchange for another.

"Yeah well you're a hypocrite, Dean. How did you feel when Dad sold his soul for you? Cause I was there. I remember. You were twisted and broken and now you go and do the same thing. To me." I had thought, maybe that will make him rethink this asinine idea that he had had. It hadn't been a lie. I still can remember how messed up he had been when our Dad died. And how even more messed up he had been knowing that he had died to save him. And now because Dean couldn't live with me dead, he had decided that he was good with me being the one that lived with him dead? What exactly was my big brother trying to tell me? That I didn't care about him? That he cared more about me then I did him? Or maybe it had been as simple as him not thinking at all. There was a difference between Dad and Dean. With Dad, Dean had had me to keep him, more or less, from going too dark. But for me, Dean was it. And I wouldn't have him to help get me through it, which means I wouldn't have anyone to keep me alright. "What you did was selfish."

"Yeah you're right, it was selfish, but I'm okay with that." He had been quick to respond. Almost as though he had been waiting, knowing I would call him out. Because ultimately, it was selfish of him even if it sounds selfless. It sounds good on paper, sure, but he was going to leave me to be alone in a world that was only growing more and more dangerous. And believe me when I say it has. If I knew what the future would bring back when I thought a couple of demons loose in the world was bad...but I hadn't and so in my eyes at the time, my brother was leaving me with a mess that seemed impossible to clean up. There's no way I was alright with that.

"I'm not."

"Tough. After everything I've done for this family, I think I'm entitled." Dean did do a lot for the family, I'll warrant him that. He took care of not only me, but Dad too. He's entitled to a lot. Rest, most definitely, death, absolutely not. I remember his eyes changing from that snarky smile they held so often, to a jaded plea for me to just accept things for what they were. "Truth is I'm tired Sam, it's like there's a light at the end of the tunnel."

"That's hellfire, Dean."

"Whatever. You're alive, I feel good for the first time in a long time." If that had been said to put me at ease and see things his way,he was sorely mistaken. In fact if anything, it made me even more uneasy than I already had been. He felt good that he was dying? It gave him some sort of peace or something? Why would that do the same for me? Why would him saying that make me worry any less than I already had been? Why would I be ok with his choice all of the sudden? "I got a year to live, Sam. I'd like to make the most of it. So what do you say we kill some sons of bitches and we raise a little hell? Huh?"

And that's where he had drawn the line. Or cut it. He was done with this conversation and although I may not have been, I knew it would be over. Because he said so. Without actually saying so. I've been doing this song and dance with him ever since we were kids. I'd bring up something he didn't want to get involved with, and he'd shut it down. Or sometimes he would entertain my thoughts a bit until it got too close to him actually having to share his feels. God forbid.

"You're unbelievable."

It hadn't been a compliment. He knew that, but yet Dean had responded with a smirk and an agreed. That was it. It was done. Conversation over. Now if I said anything it would be like poking at a clam, or a bear. Either way, it was upsetting silence for me or my ass was chewed out. There was no medium, happy or otherwise.

The moment the car had rumbled to life, my brother had reached for the volume and cranked it up. So we had gone the clam route. This was, is, his warped idea of pretending like we hadn't just had the talk that we had just had. By blaring classic rock into our eardrums, it would make everything else disappear. Or cause us to go deaf and therefore I wouldn't be able to confront him ever again. Which ever came first I guess.

He could blast the radio or cassette tapes all he wanted, because even if he was going to pretend we had just finished a normal hunt and life was like it always was, I wasn't. Because it wasn't. Come hell or high water, no pun intended, I was going to figure out some way to save my brother. And he could drink, fuck, and fight all he wanted. In the meantime I would spend everyday and every night with my nose in a book, my eyes on a screen, and an ear to a phone. Because maybe he can live with him dead, but I certainly couldn't.

 **A/n: Guest: I'm so happy that you liked my last chapter. To say you think I took a part of the show you really liked and made it better is so amazing to me. It means a lot, thank you.**


	13. Once It's Gone, You Can't Get It Back

**A/n: Everyone, I am so so sorry that I've let this story slip through the cracks. As some of you may know, I've been busy with my story "He's My Brother" which has demanded A LOT of my time dedicated to writing. But I promise that I haven't forgotten and I haven't given up on this story. Should that ever happen, I promise I'll let you know. I'm not one of those writers who just leaves readers wondering if I'll write more or if I've left it to die out. Thank you all for your patience and if you're still interested, your interest in this story.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story. A special thank you to mckydstarlight, LilyBolt, lenail125, Guest, and jojospn not only for your awesome reviews, but for your patience. Again, I'm so sorry I've fallen way behind on this.**

 **SPOILER ALERT for season 2 "In My Time of Dying," and "All Hell Breaks Lose Part 1 & 2." As well as season 3 "Fresh Blood."**

Chapter 13: Once It's Gone, You Can't Get It Back

It's funny how incredibly serious everything becomes to you when you have a deadline. Everything is against you. Time literally laughs in your face with every tick. It's like there's a fuse that grows shorter and shorter every time the big hand devours another number, drawing nearer and nearer to the end until it all explodes and is gone. Time is precious and only when it's breathing down your neck, does it seem to go by unbelievably fast. I don't know what got to me more, the fact that it had been slipping through my fingers, or the lack of concern and sincerity Dean had taken to it. It was like it was all one big fucking joke to him and he was the punch line. But I hadn't laughed. It hadn't been humorous, it hadn't been brave, it hadn't been cute, it was bullshit. There's no other way to put it. It had been complete and utter bullshit. Just like his apology for having put me through the ever looming nightmare of what it was going to be like with him gone, as well as the promise that I was strong and would be alright. Right, I was going to be alright. Because that's exactly how he had been after Dad had died and when we had learned he sold his soul for him, right? Dean had been totally fine when I had died, right? He wasn't a destroyed mess of emotions who had started to tailspin into the deep end or anything. Oh right, but I'm the strong one. So I guess that meant I could handle it and that wouldn't happen to me. I guess in Dean's unwarranted self-loafing mind, me losing him was not the same as him losing me or Dad? Yeah, because that sounded about right. His kamikaze stunts he had pulled, his "what does it matter" attitude he had inhabited (more so than usual), his constant trying to make me believe he was tough and wasn't afraid of anything and that I'd be fine without him, all of it had been bullshit. All of it had gotten old really fucking fast. And I had been able to see right through it and him, as though he were made of glass. It frustrated me, no, it downright pissed me off. He hadn't fooled anyone, or at least not me. I guess many years of watching Dean closely, idolizing him, wanting to be just like him, helped me to see him for who he was. He was brave, smart, always knew what to say and how to stand up for others, a tough guy with a heart. No one was better than my big brother. He was the best. He is the best. He knew, knows, how to handle himself. But when fear got the better of him, he wore the worst mask.

I may not have understood as a baby, but even as a child, I caught on. When most people get scared, they become paranoid. They become cautious. They know a situation's dangerous and so they avoid it and making stupid choices. Not Dean. He felt like he had something to prove. He saw it as a neon sign and threw open his arms saying "come and get it." Using himself as bait for the vamp we had been tracking, throwing himself at an armed, dangerous, and royally pissed off Gordon Walker, then deciding he was going to single handedly go after the guy, sorry, turbo charged freshly turned vampire, alone. That had been the straw that had broken the camel's back for me.

He had told me to stay in the safety of the motel room out of harm's way with the full intention of putting himself in the line of fire. Always my impregnable wall, always my human shield. And that was precisely the reason he had been in that mess to begin with. Because his concern was never about himself, it was always about me. I couldn't stand it, I can't stand it. I don't need it, and I don't want it. I don't want to ride the pine for "my own safety." I don't want my brother to always fight my battles or fight alone. We have each other's backs, or we don't go at all. I don't know why he didn't see that. Why he still doesn't. The Musketeers didn't go into anything alone, right? Ok, maybe that's a lame comparison, but still, I think I got my point across.

But of course, I verbalized my disagreement with this half-baked idea and he had responded exactly how I had expected. Only proving my point. With a sarcastic not in the least bit humorous joke at his own expense, followed by an angry jab at what he thought I had wanted him to do about his impending death. It had been his defense mechanism. His way of saying to me that he wasn't scared and so what if he died taking out an enemy? It was just another day at the office. He was going out one way or another, may as well make it count by taking out another thing that was a threat to "Sammy" before he clocked out, right? What he hadn't known was by him acting like he wasn't scared, was only further proof I know my brother. Because when something scares Dean, I mean really terrifies him, that's exactly how he acts. The opposite of what he really was. To anyone else, that probably sounds brave, but to me, it isn't him. It isn't my brother anymore. I mean sure the protective part is right but he just...I don't know how to explain it. It's just not the big brother that I have on a regular bases. It's like everything in him is amped up at a ridiculous level that's just annoying and upsetting to me. And in this case, I of course hadn't blamed him for being scared. It wasn't like I had thought fear wasn't warranted, of course it was. I myself had been terrified. Time had still been ticking, Dean was still going to Hell, and I still hadn't found a way to help get him out of the damn demon deal.

Among that exchange, I had learned that there was something else Dean hadn't noticed. He hadn't known that I was just as in tuned with him as he was with me. I guess it hadn't dawned on him that maybe this entire time, my entire existence, I had been studying him. I have seen every side of him. I've come to recognize and identify every mask he's worn, everything he's ever said and what was meant by it, his body language, how he thinks, what drives him, everything. No one knows my brother like I do. I had known him better than anyone in the entire world. I still do. I had wanted, no, I had needed him to drop the act and be my big brother again because...well, I just needed him. If I couldn't get time on my side, and soon, I wasn't going to have Dean for much longer. I couldn't lose him before I lost him to Hell. Not to Gordon, not to some fang, not to his own stupid decisions, not to fear, not to time, hell, not even to Hell. I just couldn't lose him. Period. End of story.

 **A/n: Thank you for reading. I'm. Try and not have the next chapter take too long.**

 **Guest: I'm always so happy to hear from you. Yes, I remember feeling bad for both Sam and Dean during that time in series myself. I'm glad I'm able to make you feel emotions with this, though I'm sorry too lol. Thank you as always for your awesome review, you're the best.**


	14. I Live to Fail Him Another Day

**A/n: Thank you to anyone who reads reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story. Special thank you to LilyBolt for your recent review.**

 **SPOILER ALERT for season 3 "Mystery Spot."**

I Live To Fail Him Another Day, One Thing I Had Learned

The only thing worse than Dean dying, is having witnessed an endless string of deaths that I couldn't stop. Just the thought of him not being around had been enough motivation for me to keep at my searching for something, anything that I could do to stop him from going to Hell. I couldn't imagine life without him, until I was given a glimpse.

Time and time and time again I had been forced to watch Dean die in one hundred or so different ways all of them being on the same day. Well, a loop of the same day. If I never hear the song "Heat of the Moment" again, it'll be too soon. Dean may have been the victim to death, but I had been the true target. The real victim.

I remember the first time it had happened I had been in a state of shock. A twitchy nervous Mystery Spot owner had caught us snooping around after hours and had blasted my brother with a shotgun. My heart raced and stopped all at the same time. He'd been shot multiple times in his lifetime, surely this would just be another one of those hunts were we got him somewhere safe and extracted the bullet. He'd be a bit bitchy about it and rightfully ticked at the guy, but otherwise ok. But this time had been different. This time had been the start to what would be the worst day, or days, of my life. As I had held him in my arms, I watched his face morph from shocked to, dare I say it, frightened, to calm and gone. His hand had found my shirt and he'd taken a handful of it, reaching for me. He needed me, and all I could do was hold him. I couldn't even find words of comfort for him. I just kept being in denial. He couldn't die, not like this, not today. My brother still had some months still to go, I still had some time to save him from Hell. He wasn't going and he wasn't going early. He couldn't. But he did. His eyes closed slowly and although it didn't falter, his grip on me loosened slightly. I couldn't believe it. I'd been trying so hard, so hard to save Dean, and some guy who doesn't know how to handle a fucking gun is the reason my brother is dead?

But before I could even so much as get to my feet and round on the deer in the headlights man, my eyes had opened and I had been back in my motel room. I hadn't even remembered closing my eyes. Dean was back calling out for me to "rise and shine," as alive as he could be. There aren't words to describe how I had felt in that instant. I had been beyond confused but at the same time ridiculously relieved. It took me a long while, like the better part of that morning to finally get myself to relax and convince myself it had all been one terrible dream. However as the day went on, it felt like more than that. Almost like a vision, like back when I had been psychic. But it couldn't have been, that was over with and I hadn't had any mind splitting headaches, just a really uneasy feeling. What had made it all harder, had been that Dean clearly wasn't feeling the same way. There had been no recollection of this or sense of deja vu or anything. In fact the look in his eyes had only made me feel crazier than I had already felt which in turn only made me more on edge.

We hadn't even made it that far in the day when my big brother had once again been taken from me. This time by a crazy old man and his car. Dean had flown into the air and hit the ground only a couple of feet in front of me. Once again I had rushed to his side, this time however I had peered into vacant green eyes. He was gone. Then I woke up without me remembering that I had even gone to sleep, and I was back at the motel room waking up to a blend of that God awful Asia song and my brother's upbeat morning greeting.

For what had felt like months, years, this had been my day. Wake up to an overly cheerful Dean and Asia, get ready for the day, go to the local diner where Dean would order the special, coffee black, with a side of bacon, tell me what I was claiming was happening was "dingo ate my baby crazy," and some way or another, he'd die, and then I'd be back in that same fucking motel hearing that same fucking song and re-living the same fucking day. Different death. With all the shit that comes our way, even to this day seven years later, I had just summed it up to be the luck of the Winchesters. The world had seemed like it was out to get us almost from the start. It was almost as though it was trying to tell me that Dean's death was inevitable. That no matter what I did, I couldn't save him. Every time I saw those green eyes I had known all my life close or stare lifelessly at nothing, a piece of me, not to sound like some drama queen or anything, but a piece of me died too. All the hope I'd been harboring, all the confidence in my ability to help my brother beat this death sentence and tear up his one way ticket to Hell, had drained from me. I had become numb to everything, including his deaths. Every time my eyes popped open and I had found myself looking at that same ugly flamingo wallpaper, hearing that same song, living that same day, it had all been one big obnoxious reminder that I couldn't do anything to stop this from happening. I'd failed my brother and I was doomed to sit back and watch myself fail another day. The same day. Fucking Tuesday. Over and over and over and over again. And every day, Dean was none the wiser. It had been just another day for him. He had started to express concern, though honestly I think it had been more for my sanity than anything else. And if I myself am being honest, seeing him wake up in a cheery happy mood, only made me feel worse. Every day, to him, had started off great and would end in some tragedy he didn't see coming. It was like knowing you were going to have to put down your dog who was all but too eager to get into the car and had no idea that you were taking it to its death. It had hurt and only further darkened my mood. As everyday had trickled into a darker gloom for me, his words of comfort and reassurance that we were going to figure it out and that he wasn't going to die, stayed the same from him. Not once in the numerous Tuesdays did that ever falter. He'd only just actually told me that he didn't want to go to Hell and only when I had stopped believing that I could actually accomplish that, is when he was so sure it was possible. A bit ass backwards, but it had taken me almost the full year to get that much from him. He'd stopped joking about it and making comments that made me want to slap some sense into him and him treating it like it was inevitable just in time for me to start thinking maybe it was. But with his new found determination, where ever it had sparked from, I had refused to not return the favor. I owed him that much. And then all this bullshit started and it was like someone was kicking me in nuts over and over and over and over again.

The moment I had figured out what was happening, a bit of my confidence and hope had been restored. Dean had been confused as had always been the case when he woke up every morning, the Tuesday before and its events within it having been erased from his memory, leaving him to question my mental state as I held a sharpe object to the jugular of man neither of us knew and demanded he stop fucking with us or I'd kill him. The threats, as crazy and random as they may have seemed to him, had worked and the Trickster had finally freed me from what is now my least favorite day of the week.

My eyes had opened and although that same hidious wallpaper and room was what I saw, Asia hadn't been blaring through the radio and my brain and Dean hadn't greeted me with a perky tone, but rather one that had suggested I had slept longer than he would have liked. The alarm clock had confirmed my hopes, it had been Wednesday. Of course as had been the case, Dean had been confused, but this time he had remembered the day before. Progress! I had been all too thrilled and eager to get the hell out of dodge, but that had been short lived. A gunshot had sounded from the parking lot of the motel we had been staying at. Panic took me as I rushed out and saw what I had thought was finally over. Dean had been laying with blood running down his shirt, a bullet wound in his chest. Fear had consumed me as I collected my brother for over the hundredth time, squeezing my eyes shut ready to wake up in that same flamingo happy motel room. When I had opened them again, Dean had still been in my arms, dead. This time, I wasn't waking up because this time, we hadn't been in a time loop. It had been Wednesday and when I woke up the next morning, it had been Thursday. I had lost my brother and this time for good.

For months I had worked on tracking down the Trickster while hunting still to fill the empty time, until finally I got him. It had all been a lesson to me from him about how I couldn't save my brother, yeah, got that memo. Begging isn't really the Winchester way and I know if it had been Dean who had caught up to him, he would have ran him through after threatening him didn't work. But I had been spent. I took out all my anger and frustration on everything I came across, including the Trickster. But when that didn't do anything other than impress him, I couldn't help but get watery eyed and plead with the damn thing to just bring my brother back to me. I'm not exactly proud of how I had gone about it, but desperate times and whatnot.

The next time my eyes opened, it had been Wednesday, I had been in that fucking motel room I had left and vowed to never return to months ago, but most importantly, I had stared up into the eyes I had fought so hard to keep alive. Not caring how girly I had looked, I threw back the covers and all but threw myself at Dean. My face had been pressed so hard against his that I was sure he'd make a comment or move to push me off. He hadn't. He'd allowed me to hold onto him and stand like that for a while longer before speaking again. He could have said whatever he wanted to say done whatever he wanted to do, all I cared about was that he was alive. The Trickster's words still ran through my mind and maybe he was right and I wouldn't be able to save my brother, but I wasn't going to just sit back and watch it happen. If there was one thing I had learned from this traumatic experience, it was that I couldn't live with Dean dead.


	15. Ch15: The Day the Music Died

**A/n: Everyone I'm so sorry I let this get away from me. I know it's been months since my last post and for anyone still interested in reading this, I'm grateful.**

 **SPOILER ALERT for season 3 episode "No Rest for the Wicked."**

 **Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites, or follows this collection. A special thanks to XO and LilyBolt for your last reviews.**

The Day the Music Died

I can still remember those last couple of days as though it only happened a few hours ago and not over five years ago. I had woken early, sleep wasn't finding and keeping me like it normally did. Time was moving way too fast and seemed like every moment I rested, was a moment wasted. I had stretched out on Bobby's study room floor where I'd been sleeping. Usually Dean insisted I sleep on the couch, but it was the least I could do to at least try and give him a good night's sleep. Or a better one. But of course nothing I did could help with that. He'd become restless. Tossing and turning and mumbling in his sleep. I couldn't even imagine what he was dreaming of. Dreams were no picnic for me either, but if I was having a rough time, I knew Dean had to have been having an even rougher time.

I could smell coffee from where I had been lying, and I could just make out a sliver of my brother no doubt sitting at the dining table with a book open. I had got up to join him, but found he wasn't looking at a book, but instead his gaze had been fixed outside. I watched him with heavy eyes and an even heavier heart, grateful that I wasn't able to read minds. Clearing my throat to announce my prescience had sure enough brought my brother back to Bobby's kitchen.

"Hey," he had greeted.

"Hey." I had poured myself a cup of coffee and joined him. "You find anything?"

"No," he had admitted shaking his head. "Nothin' yet."

Although I had felt a sinking feeling in my gut, I had nodded at him and in the strongest voice I could muster I had promised him "we will Dean. Don't worry."

He didn't have to tell me how he was feeling, the defeated look on his face and in his exhausted eyes was enough for me.

All day we had done nothing but look for a way to save him. I don't even remember how many books I had read or scanned through or how many I had seen Bobby or Dean look through. Finally with only thirty hours left, Bobby found something. I had finally started to feel hope worm its way through me. If the great Bobby Singer found something, it was bound to work. But I won't deny that after I had been given an inch, I had been ready to take a mile. The news was the best I had heard in easily a year, but just knowing the location of the demon bitch who held my brother's contract wasn't enough. I had known the best way to actually get there and get the drop on her, was by summoning someone who had a good idea on how Lilith worked. Dean had never liked Ruby. He'd always seen her as a manipulative bitch who had been hell bent on using me for some purpose that was her own. I had seen her as a possible ally. She had known about Lilith and no doubt how to take her out.

It hadn't exactly come as a shock to me when he refused and forbid me to include her, I did anyways. Like I said, an inch wasn't enough. Other than learning some startling news about myself and that I could be strong enough to take on Lilith if I was willing to allow myself to open my mind to my demonic "gift," I didn't manage to get the mile I had been hoping to. Sure, hell why not? If that's what it took to save my brother, why not give it a try? It'd be for the greater good. I'd finally be able to do something about his stupid deal. But I should've known that Dean wasn't going to trust me. Though I guess in this case he was right not to. I was ready to do whatever it took to keep him from going to hell. With that plan foiled and Ruby out of the picture, I headed towards Indiana alongside Dean and with Bobby trailing, having refused to be left behind.

The closer we had drawn towards Lilith's vacation home, the tighter my chest had felt. What if this didn't work? What if we go in there guns blazing and all it does is piss her off and kill him sooner? Or all of us? I trusted Dean, I still trust Dean. Although I have given him many reasons not to trust me, he's very rarely ever given me a reason not to trust him. The only thing I know I have to watch out for, is when my life is at stake. There's no telling what he'll do. Something I've picked up from him. My Dad was always very particular about Dean and I have each other's backs, but it was Dean who had taught me you do anything for your family.

With the exception of a demon wearing a cop and pulling us over, resulting in Dean beating the shit out of him before stabbing him, the ride was...alright. I tried not to think about how if things didn't go according to plan, this would be the last time I sat with my brother behind the wheel of the Impala belting out rock songs. I had allowed myself to get lost in the moment, only for awhile, singing along with him and equally as bad. For just a second I had allowed myself to act like it was any other drive to a hunt. No one was dying, with the exception of whatever monster we were hunting, and everything was as it should be. But that all stopped the moment we rolled in to town and began our fight to Lilith.

We had taken out a good few demons, Bobby's sprinkler trick had worked like a charm and I had been so close, so close to killing the demon bitch, but she had smoked out of the child she'd been hiding away in and was MIA. There had been nothing left to do. It was two minutes to midnight, and before you go thinking I was trying to make a rock reference, I wasn't. In fact I can't stand that song anymore for the sheer fact that that night is all I can think about whenever I hear it. It was Dean's final minutes and I had been at the point where I thought screw a mile, give me a league! I had turned once again to Ruby, the last hope of an extremely desperate man. But even she had nothing to offer.

"I'm not going to let you go to Hell Dean!" I had shouted when he yet again stopped me.

"Yes you are!" He had yelled back, then softer as though he hadn't just said it to me but himself he repeated, "yes you are."

The look he had given me...even now I can't describe it. It wasn't the last time I'd see it, but in that moment I wanted to look away. I didn't want to look into his guilt ridden eyes and see them shine with unshed tears. Even as he stood with a minute left before the clock struck twelve, he had warn the mask he wore the most around me. Reassurance. The same look that he uses to hide his fear and defeat and tell me everything will be ok. But it hadn't been and it wasn't going to be and the worst part about being older and seeing that face, those eyes, was knowing that the mask was for nothing anymore. I have been old enough to know now for a long time. But he still did it. He still does it. And I wish he wouldn't because it hasn't fooled me in years and all it did was upset both of us.

"I'm sorry," he had continued, "I mean, this is all my fault. I know that." It had been as though he realized just what he had done to me. Ok yes I get that I had died and that he felt as though he had failed me, but I was dead. Now, he's returned a favor, because he didn't like it. But unlike him, I couldn't do anything about it. I didn't have the luxury of offering myself to keep him alive like he had for me. I couldn't return the biggest favor I would ever owe my big brother, and that tortured me more than actually losing him. "But what you're doing, it's not gonna save me. It's only going to kill you."

That damn deal. I could've punched my brother for having made it, for not letting me help him because if I did I would drop dead. God forbid the Winchester who had died and started all this stayed dead like he should have and Dean live. God forbid I should be the one to save my brother for a damn change.

"Then what am I suppose to do?" I had asked. Part of me wish I hadn't. I had been relatively calm at the time, keeping my emotions in check which was no easy task for me. As much as I tried to be, I wasn't my big brother.

"Keep fighting."

I had glared at him, doing well to keep from exploding at him and saying "oh, you mean like you did when I was gone?!"

"And take care of my wheels."

I still hadn't allowed myself to break, rolling my eyes in my own natural fashion to my brother mentioning his car and trying to lighten the mood for just a second. But then the small grin fell and the shine returned to his eyes as he continued on in a serious and gently tone.

"Sammy, remember what Dad taught you...okay?"

I had nodded and licked my lips still keeping myself mostly together. Basic survival skills, that's what he had taught me.

"And remember what I taught you."

Gone. All walls, keeping up a strong face, gone. Dad may have taught me how to defend myself against monsters and how to take them down. How to get myself out of tight spots and tricks of the trade, but Dean...Dean had taught me everything I know about how to be a person. Sure he showed me a few tricks that help with the job, finding things like paperclips or loose nails and turning them into lock picks, how if you cross your arm holding a gun over the other it helps hold it steady when you're looking to shoot. But he also taught me how to do other things like walk, talk, how to behave around others, how to drive, how to pick up girls, where to go for the best food (when we ate similarly). He taught me how to look both ways before crossing a street, how to stand up to others, how to help others. The list was long. In short, he was the one who helped shape me into the man I am today. We have our differences, but Dean was my brother, my mother, and at times my father. I owed so much to him and it's because of who he is that I looked up to him since I was a toddler. Who wouldn't?

I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I didn't want my brother to go. I hadn't been able to prove to him that he raised me right. That anything he could do, I could too. And as the clock struck and chimed alerting us that the time had come, I felt that heavy yet empty feeling in my gut.

We had bought some time, but it hadn't mattered. Lilith had taken over the body Ruby had been in and unleashed the Hellhounds on Dean.

I can't put into words what it had felt like to have to watch unable to even so much as move a muscle to help my brother as Lilith kept me pinned to a wall close by. I had to watch as Dean screamed in fear and pain, trying and failing to crawl away as the demon dogs ripped and tore into him. And then...nothing. My yelling didn't stop, but his had and he was no longer struggling. He was silent and still. That haunts me still. I will never be able to get the image of my bloody shredded brother out of my head. And even to this day, I know that whenever we are dealing with Hellhounds, there's a part of Dean that has flashbacks of the day they came for him.

With Lilith gone it had only been me and Dean in the silence. I didn't want to look but I couldn't look anywhere else. I was forced to peer down at my biggest failure with eyes wet with fresh unstoppable tears. I had done nothing. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't kill the beast. I couldn't save my brother. All those months of searching everything I could with more sleepless nights than restful and more determination and confidence than I should have allowed myself. All of it...gone. all of it for nothing. All of it my fault. I don't know what I was excepting to see when I looked into Dean's eyes. Life? The faintest flicker of light that he always seemed to have? Like I had expected him to yell and laugh and for it to all be some huge prank to get me back for something I'd done wrong? But he didn't jump up and scary me, he didn't laugh, the light in his eyes didn't return as they stared pass me. Dean Winchester, my indestructible big brother of whom had made it his life mission to keep me safe and my own goal to do the same for him, was gone. My promise, my vow, broken.

 **A/n: Thank you to anyone who read this. I'll try to be better about updating.**

 **On a side note, for anyone who read "He's My Brother," I am starting to work on the sequel "He's Still My Brother." I have no idea when I will be posting it, but so far I have five chapters written out for it.**


	16. Through the Eyes of a Monster

**A/n: Just a reminder that this is a story told from Sam's POV, so it doesn't reflect on what I personally think of any of the characters.**

 **SPOILER ALERT for season 4x01 "Lazarus Rising" and 4x4 "Metamorphosis."**

 **Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites this story. A special thank you to bagelcat1, hectatess, Guest, and LilyBolt for your recent reviews.**

Through the Eyes of a Monster

I'd be lying if I said that the day Dean showed up at my hotel door had been a joyful one complete with lollipops and candy canes. I wish that had been the case, and don't get me wrong, I was glad that Dean was back. He's my brother after all. But things had been different after he died. I was different. I wasn't the same guy who had had to pick up his brother's remains and bury him. I wasn't lost anymore or overwhelmed by grief. I finally was starting to get the hang of things. I had a taste of what it was like to be the one that was in control for once. I had power I never had when Dean had been around. And sure enough, the minute he was back, I was forced to fallback as his shadow. Or at least I let him think that. And it had been manageable. I'd tag along like I always had, but when he was asleep, that's when I'd resume being my own person.

Ruby had helped me through my tough times when I wasn't sure what to do or how to do it. It wasn't like I hadn't been alone before, but at least back in college, Dean had still been alive. Dad too, for that matter. But it had been different this time, because he hadn't. I hadn't chosen to be alone, he had left me. With his absence and my blind rage and deeply rooted desire to seek revenge on Lilith for what she had done, I had channelled all of that and used it for good. With guidance from Ruby, I learned how to work my powers in my favor and send demons back to Hell. It wasn't my brother back or the demon bitch dead, but it was a start. After having spent my time drinking and sulking, I was finally back in the saddle again, saving people and hunting things.

But my charade didn't last long after Dean returned, and he quickly caught on, taking me by surprise one night where I had successfully killed a demon and saved the man it had been riding. I've done enough in my time to have seen my brother disappointed, but the look he'd given me that night...it was unlike anything I'd ever seen. It was worse and I hadn't ever thought there could be such thing as worse. Disbelief, betrayal, confusion, hurt, fear, only a few things that could come close to the look. None of these were comforting, none of them made me feel the same way I had felt just seconds ago when I had saved that man. But the worst of them, was the fear. Dean was actually afraid of me. All our lives I'd never seen my brother look at me that way. As though he were staring at something he didn't understand or recognize. Like he wasn't looking at his own blood, but a monster. I had tried to explain myself, but he hadn't let me. He instead had turned and walked away, not saying a word as he went.

By the time he had reappeared, I had hoped he had gone out and got himself a burger or a pie and cooled off, ready now to talk to me. I had only been half right. He stormed in and began packing and only when I tried to get him to stop and talk to me, was when I had learned he was far from ready to be anywhere near me. Two blows to the face was his reply.

"Do you even know how far off the reservation you've gone? How far from normal? From human?" What had I expected? For Dean to be totally on board with me on this? After it was practically his dying wish I steer clear after Ruby's first time mentioning it?

"I'm just exorcising demons," I had tried to explain.

"With your mind!"

That had hurt, I hadn't known what to say, but I didn't have to because he was far from done.

"What else can you do?"

"I can send them back to Hell." It had been foolish of me to feel hopeful that he'd see the good in what I was doing. "It works with demons, and that's it."

He nodded curtly and I could see his anger rising as he grabbed me by the shirt and drove me backwards. "What else can you do?!" He had demanded.

"I told you!" I broke free and stared him down. I hadn't been lying, well not with that anyways. But it didn't matter, the damage had already been done and Dean wasn't going to believe a damn word I said.

"And I have every reason in the world to believe that."

"Look, I should have said something," I started apologetically, realizing that lying may not have been such a smart idea but also having been too terrified by what he would say, what he would think of me. I hadn't been wrong to fear that. "I'm sorry Dean, I am. But try to see the other side here."

"The other side?!"

"I'm pulling demons out of innocent people."

If nothing else I had figured that would make him stop and think.

"Use the knife!"

"The knife kills the victim! What I do, most of them survive! Look, I've saved more people in the last five months than we save in a year." You can't argue with statistics, unless of course you're Dean Winchester.

"That what Ruby wants you to think?" He questioned me after a pause. "Kind of like the way she tricked you into using your powers?" I still hadn't known what to say. "Slippery slope, Brother," he shook his head. "Wait and see. Because it's gonna get darker and darker, and God knows where it ends."

"I'm not gonna let it go too far." Famous last words and clearly not the ones Dean had wanted to hear. With anger building up and not knowing what to do with it, he swept his hand quickly across the motel dresser and brought the lamp that was perched on it crashing to the floor.

"It's already gone too far, Sam." For as long as I live, the next words that came from my brother's mouth, would be the worst thing anyone's ever said to me. His eyes had been shining with tears and a look of what I could only call disgust was in his eyes. "If I didn't know you...I'd want to hunt you. And so would other hunters." I couldn't care less about the other hunters, my mind was hung up on what my own brother, my family, the man who had fought alongside me, had my back, had protected me for all my life, had told me if he didn't know me, he'd want to kill me. What do you say to that? It was hard not to completely crumble to the ground after hearing him say those hateful words and I kept them in the back of my mind, thinking about that over and over and every time he looked at me, I wanted to disappear.

"You were gone." I had said in a small voice. I rolled my watering eyes trying to keep myself from dropping any actual tears before making damn sure my brother was looking straight at me for the next thing I said. "I was here. I had to keep fighting without you." I used the very words "keep fighting" that he had said to me the night he died. "And what I'm doing...It works."

I didn't like Dean's response. I didn't like that his eyes were welling with his own tears like I had been the biggest disappointment to ever walk this earth.

"Well, tell me. If it's so terrific...then why'd you lie about it to me?"

I wanted to tell him my concern, my fear. But if I had, would it have mattered? Would it have made a difference? Would it have made him hate what he saw or the idea any less? Would he not have looked at me with disgust and fear? I doubted it. Because maybe Dean was hurt that I'd kept a secret from him, but that hadn't been the problem. Nor had it been the first secret and it certainly wasn't the last. The problem was that he couldn't get behind me using my psychic powers. Lying about it had only added fuel to the fire.

"Why did an angel tell me to stop you?"

That pulled me out of my melancholy thoughts.

"What?"

"Cas said that if I don't stop you, he will." That had been less than comforting to hear. "See, what that means, Sam? That means that God doesn't want you doing this. So, are you just gonna stand there and tell me everything is all good?"

I had only been trying to do something good with the curse I had been given at the age of six months old. I just couldn't understand why everyone including the angels and God himself were so against me.

Our...confrontation, for lack of a better word, was interrupted by a phone call from a fellow hunter that would bring in a case way too close to home to be comfortable. A man named Jack Montgomery was suspected of being a creature known as a Rougarou. His life as he knew it, was changing. It wouldn't be long before he'd crave human flesh. Once he had a bite, there was no going back and he'd turn full monster. I had suggested we talk to him about it while Travis and the Dean started getting their flamethrowers together. Ultimately I had won and we had gone to talk with Jack, but it hadn't taken Dean long to notice the similarities between me and the man who would soon be a monster.

"You sure your emotions aren't getting in the way here?" He had asked me after yet another heated back and forth about the man I was trying to save and Dean was ready to kill.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, nice dude, but he's got something evil inside. Something in his blood. Maybe you can relate." I had reached my boiling point and I hadn't needed to look over at him to feel his eyes judging me the way they had been since he first saw me after I had used my powers. That look that told me I was filth barely recognizable anymore or worthy enough to call myself his family.

"Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car or I will!"

He had obeyed,but I hadn't waited for him to come to a full stop before I had thrown open the door and stepped out. I needed to get out of that damn car. To get some God damn air and space from being so close to Dean and wanting to deliver a few of my own spirts of angry energy like he had done back at the motel.

"You want to know why I've been lying to you, Dean? Because of crap like this!" He wanted to know, fine, I was ready to unleash on him.

"Like what?"

"The way you talk to me, the way you look at me like I'm a freak!" I'd been aware of it for a long time, since I first started learning and sharing my psychic abilities and dreams with him and the fact he tried to play it off like he had never side stared at me or looked at me the way I sometimes saw him looking at me, only made me angrier.

"I do not."

"You know or even worse, like I'm an idiot! Like I don't know the difference between right and wrong!" This had been part of the problem from the get go. This I hadn't missed when Dean was gone. I finally felt like I could handle myself and that I was no longer the damsel in distress or the snot nose kid who was always being left behind in a motel room while the "adults" handled the situation.

"Do you know the difference, Sam? I mean, you've been kind of strolling a dark road lately."

"You have no idea what I'm going through, none."

"Then enlighten me!"

I know Dean, he always wants to fix things in whatever way he can. If the car's acting up, he'll take a look under the hood and find what's wrong. If people go missing, he finds the monster responsible and he kills it. Short of killing me, my brother didn't know how to "fix" me and I knew it bothered him. But not as much as it bothered me that he saw me as something that needed to be "fixed." I wasn't broken, I was cursed. And he didn't have any idea what it was like to be in my shoes and I couldn't make him understand.

"I've got demon blood in me, Dean!" I had shouted in frustration. "This disease pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I'm a whole new level of freak! And I'm just trying to take this...this curse...and make something good out of it. Because I have to."

In the end, Jack didn't make it, having eaten Travis and turned full Rougarou. Seeing the man not be able to fight his instincts as a monster, gave me less hope for myself. After that hunt, I had sworn off using my powers. Not for my brother's sake, but for my own. It was my choice, not anyone else's.

I just wanted Dean to stop looking at me like he wasn't sure if he wanted to cry, puke, flinch, cringe, kill me, or all of the above. I didn't say anymore about it, but I was always aware of the quick glances Dean would steal of me as I sat with my own eyes focused out the window and my back as turned to him as I could. I never wanted to view my brother the way I had then, and I certainly didn't want him to see me as what he clearly saw me as, a freak who was slowly losing the right to call himself his brother.

 **A/n: Thank you for reading. I'm trying to juggle a few stories in the making, but I'm going to really try and be better about posting this.**


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